Toy Soldiers
by TStabler
Summary: That's what they feel like, most days. Warriors sent into a battle they're not prepared for, fighting on their own terms. It's the nature of the job. But in life beyond work, the real war rages on. When bombs drop, literally and figuratively, they're put in the frontlines. Bit by bit, heart to heart, they vow to keep each other from falling down like toy soldiers. E/O
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Because my imagination likes to run wild and my brain won't stop bugging me until it gets what it wants, here is a new beginning. **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

_**I'm supposed to be the soldier, who never blows his composure - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

It comes in waves.

The guilt ebbs as the pain flows. The tides change and the two switch places. Love is the constant, the foam rising to the surface as it crests and crashes against stone, stark reality.

She pretends it doesn't exist, the battle raging inside. She carries on like nothing's wrong, smiling at colleagues, grimacing every time she swallows bitter, lukewarm coffee because it's expected. Because she knows they'll worry, they'll see her weaknesses, and she's tried so damn hard to convince everyone she doesn't have any.

It isn't Munch's raised eyebrow that gives her pause. It's not Cragen's cold stare or Fin's questioning grunt. It's the tilted head and glazed eyes of her partner, the way his lip is caught between his teeth, the way he's leaning back in his chair with one foot propped up on the other leg. The collar of his deep blue shirt is unbuttoned and tie loosened, the barest bit of his chest exposed. When she catches his eyes, he smiles at her.

That's what breaks her. That's what causes this wave to feel more like a Tsunami, causing an earthquake in her stomach and an incredible volcanic eruption in her head. She plops into her chair, the coffee cup hitting the desk a bit harder than planned and spilling over onto the blotter, leaving a pattern like raindrops on today's date. Her head drops into her hands, a frustrated and self-loathing sigh escapes, and she knows he hears it.

"Hey," his voice hits her ears.

Another wave crashes.

"What's wrong?" He leans forward, concern lacing the words and dripping from every feature in his face.

She raises her head. She tries to smile. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he snaps. He knows her so well. Better than anyone. Better than herself. "Talk to me."

Her smile fades as she rakes her fingers through her hair, and another wave of saltwater nausea rolls into shore. "Christ," she hisses, rolling her eyes. "I can't…" she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip and shakes her head. She wraps a determined hand around her coffee and opens her mouth, taking the plunge into the deep water.

"Benson!" Cragen's voice yells as he slams the phone on Munch's desk back into the cradle. "You and Stabler, down to the docks, we got another one." He nods at her, glares at Elliot, and turns to storm away, retreating into his office with a slamming door.

"He's still mad at you," she notes, getting out of her seat.

"Yeah, no shit," he counters, rising and grabbing the keys off of the top of a skewed pile of paperwork. He pulls his coat off the back of his chair, grabs hers off of the hook on the wall beside their connected desks, and he looks at her. "M'lady?" he teases, bowing his head and holding her jacket open for her.

With another roll of her eyes, the guilt and sadness ebb, giving way to high-tide for love and devotion. She shoves her maroon-sweater arms through the sleeves, sighing again, and she tugs on the leather as she turns to him. "Ready?"

"What's wrong?" he whispers the words, his lips an inch away from hers.

She smells his breath, the mint of his toothpaste only slightly overpowered by coffee and chocolate donut. "Nothing, why do you keep…"

"You were gonna tell me, you were ready to tell me, then Cragen opened his big mouth and…" he shakes his head. "Please, tell me what…"

"Not here," she spits, yanking on his arm. She pulls him out into the hallway, through the heavy metal door leading to the stairs. Once the latch catches behind them, she takes a breath. "You have to promise, I mean, swear on your fucking life, if I tell you...you won't hate…"

"Nothing you could do or say," he quips, reiterating a mutual promise made years ago that they've whittled down to those six small words. They could be shortened even more if they're honest.

To three smaller ones.

"There's something...I guess I've been keeping from you," she admits, and the waves swell again, her eyes close.

His widen. "You're pregnant!"

"What?" Her eyes pop open and she looks at him as though she's certain he's gone insane. "No! Fucking...no." She takes another breath. "It's about...shit, it's about Kathy."

He narrows his eyes. "What?" He purses his lips, but then he sees something in her stare. His lips unwind into a half-smirk and he says, "Liv…"

The blast shocks him, but it's her body hurling into his that silences his words. He instinctively curls his arms around her and folds them up into a tight ball as they roll down a flight of stairs just in time to avoid the second blast, closer to the staircase, which sends part of the wall and broken door flying through the air. They hit the exact spot he and Olivia had been standing in a moment ago.

"What the fuck?" he asks in a hoarse voice, his arms pulling her even tighter to him. He holds her steady, keeping her still, pressed to him, until he's sure things have stopped blowing up. The smoke begins to fill the stairwell and he rises, with her in his grip, and runs her down the stairs despite her protests. "I know," he replies, hearing her say that they're leaving people upstairs. "Look!" He juts his chin upward.

Her eyes shoot to where he's indicated and she heaves a sigh of relief, seeing Munch, Fin, and Cragen coughing and wheezing their way through the hole in the demolished wall. She lets Elliot pull her down the stairs willingly now, and when he pushes the last door open and swerves to lean against the side of the building, she falls against him.

He runs his hands down her back, up her arms, and then cups her face. "Look at me. Look at me!" He searches her eyes and then scans her body, looking for any sign of injury.

"I'm okay," she says, her fingers lacing with his as they rest against her cheeks. She nods and repeats herself because she knows he needs to hear it again. "I'm okay."

He nods back at her and then pulls her into him again. "Thank God," he whispers. And then he looks at someone a few feet away. "What the hell happened?" The question comes out angry and he makes no move to let go of Olivia as the man walks toward them.

Cragen says nothing as he wraps his arms around both of them, ignoring their embrace in favor of his own emotional display. "You two all right?" he asks them, pulling back and slapping Elliot on the back twice. It's as close to an apology as he's going to give and in his current state, he's more concerned about their well being than his irritation.

Elliot nods, his chin rubbing against the top of Olivia's head as he stays firmly wrapped around her, ignoring her gentle pushing against him. He's trying to calm down, and right now, having her in his arms is the only thing making it possible. "What the hell happened up there?"

"Two charges," Cragen says, his voice wavering slightly as his hand shakily rests on Olivia's shoulder. "Small. Precise. One in the elevator, one near the stairs. Bomb squad is coming down here, they'll figure out exactly where...exactly what…"

"The elevator and the stairs," Olivia said, popping her head up. She lets out a gasp as she turns and apologizes to a laughing Elliot, who rubs his chin where she'd hit it as she moved. Once he assures her that he'll live, she turns her head back in Cragen's direction. "Someone wanted to…"

"Trap us in the unit," Cragen nods, knowing what she was saying. "Luckily the second blast blew a hole in the wall instead of caving it in, and we ran like hell. Everyone's out."

Olivia nods and gives one last fruitless push in efforts to put some distance between herself and her partner.

Her _partner_.

She closes her eyes and feels the oceanic emotions sweep over her, waves of guilt, slight grief, even slighter happiness. She remembers. She has to tell him, especially now, when his wife would be rushing down here playing the part of the panicking spouse. "Shit," she whispers, and she doesn't know he hears it.

"What?" He asks the question softly, tenderly, as would a lover. His hand trails down her back and u-turns before the danger zone. Caressing back up her body. As would...a lover. "What's bothering you?"

_Besides this? _she thinks, but she says, "Fuck, I need to tell you something. Personal."

He eyes Cragen, who is fully wrapped up in a conversation with the captain of a different department and three members of the bomb squad, fresh on the scene. "So tell me," he whispers in that bedroom voice he seems to have fallen into.

She blinks, wondering what has sparked this tenderness, trying to remember if any of the blown brick and mortar hit him in the head. She narrows her eyes, bites her lip, and for a moment she moves closer, under the impression that kissing him is a good idea. He isn't moving away, in fact, he seems to be meeting her move for move. But she comes to her senses, rolls her eyes at herself, and shakes her head. "Not..not now." She finally gathers the strength to do two things at once: push herself away from him and stifle the surging surf spiraling into a whirlpool in her stomach.

"Liv!" He calls to her as she walks away from him, but he follows fast, repeating himself. "Liv! Wait!"

"We have work to do!" she shouts back. "We have to get down to the dock, they're waiting, we're already fucking late."

He runs, he reaches out, and he grunts as he grabs her arm and pulls. "Okay. We almost just fucking blew up! I think the body by the bay can wait a fucking minute!"

"The body by the bay is somebody's daughter!" She yells at him, yanks her arm from him, but before she can say anything else, two members of emergency response and the Fire Marshall head their way.

One man, taller and more stocky than the others, pulls off a green gas mask and coughs once, holding out a hand. "Stabler," he says with a nod, shaking Elliot's hand and then moving in for Olivia's. "Benson, wish this was more of a social…"

"What happened up there, Phelps?" Elliot snaps. He folds his arms, his dust-covered coat wrinkling and puckering.

Phelps rubs a hand across his forehead and sighs. "Near as we can tell, small grade explosives, designed to block the floor's exits and disable the elevator. When we got up there, white gas was being filtered into the squadroom, it, uh...seems like someone wanted to knock everyone out. We got a bit of the line, lab'll run it, see what we're dealing with."

Elliot looks at Olivia, his stunned and scared face matches hers, and he exhales. The breath is shaky, and he thanks his lucky stars that no one is there to see how completely terrified he is, because the only one who gets to see his vulnerable side is Olivia. "Shit," he spits, and he drags a hand down his face.

Cragen makes his way back over, followed by Fin, and he looks paler than usual. "Dodged a bullet," he says, one side of his cheek wedged between his clenching teeth. "You two, uh, we're still on the clock, ya know? Both of you, go get checked out. EMTs are waiting," he points over his shoulder to the ambulance.

Olivia and Elliot both look that way, a glimpse of Munch getting his blood pressure taken while almost certainly hitting on the pretty EMT who's taking it. They chuckle, the same low laugh, and then look at each other as if it still surprises them how in-tune they are.

Cragen speaks again. "When you're done, you need to, um," he scratches his neck. "The dock. Warner isn't the most patient person. I'll call you when it's…" he stops, a brief vision of Olivia and Elliot being crushed by the crumbling building playing like a bad movie in his mind. He shakes it off, blinks rapidly, and says, "When we get the all-clear to go back up there. Until then, uh, just...do your jobs."

Olivia shakes her head, still in shock, disbelief. "Who the fuck would…"

"Morales is reviewin' tapes," Fin says, his arms folded. "We had the building inspector here two days ago, checked the vents and the alarms. Might'a been him. It's a place to start." He shrugs and pushes up the sleeves of his black turtleneck. "You two sure you're okay?" He looks at Elliot. "You need to call the wife and kids?"

"No," Elliot answers on a sigh. "Why worry them? I'm fine, Liv's fine, everything's okay." He looks at Cragen. "Right?"

"Luckily," Cragen gives a single affirmative bow of his head. "Just the elevator and stairwell, nothing, uh...nothing else…" he waves a hand. "Besides being covered in dust and rubble, nothing else was damaged. You're worried about files and compromised evidence, it's all...okay."

Munch walks over, a fury in his eyes behind his glasses, and he pulls down his shirt sleeve as he opens his mouth. "Anyone want to tell me why I was almost barbecue Munch and what we plan to do about it?"

Phelps turns sharply. "You will do nothing, John," he retorts. "This ain't a sex crime."

"Technically," Cragen pipes in, "SVU is sex crimes, children, and the elderly." He hides a grin. "John's a victim here, we can take the case."

Elliot chuckles at the way Munch looks at Cragen, but he leads Olivia away from the brewing argument. He spirals his arms around hers, resting his hand on her wrist, and he tugs lightly, leading her in the direction of their silver Ford four-door. "Breathe," he says softly to her. "I'm okay."

Her brows knit together and she angles her head in his direction. "How did you…"

"I know you," he laughs, and then, when he reaches the car, he unravels his arm from hers and looks into her brown eyes. "And because the only thing on my mind has been whether or not you're really okay, so I figured…" he shrugs. "We're always thinking the same fucking thing anyway." He winks at her and tells her without words to get in the car, and he rubs his eyes before slipping behind the wheel.

He brushes away bits of plaster and dust before sitting, but once he straps in and closes the door, he shoves the key into the ignition and says, "No one's around, now. What do you have to say to me?"

"Jesus, you really want to have this conversation now?" She's trying to avoid it, thinking of excuses, ways to put it off, but looking at him now, she sees the worry in his eyes. She can tell he's scared shitless, and she knows she can't. With a deep and heavy sigh, she leans back against her car seat and tries to find the best way to begin. "You remember...last...no, it, uh….two weeks ago. I had that date, I went to Fratelli's with…"

"Don't say his name," Elliot groans, rolling his eyes. He slaps the blinker bar hard, his jealousy coming out in small, unnoticeable ways.

She chuckles and briefly wonders why he gets so bent out of shape when it comes to her love life. "With _him_," she emphasized the word and gave him a pointed look. "We were waiting for someone to come take our order, and, uh...I was people watching, and…"

"He proposed," he gasps, and it sounds excruciatingly painful. "Liv, you can't..."

"No! God, will you stop and let me talk?" She shakes her head at him. "He didn't propose, he didn't even...yeah, that's never gonna happen." She sees him relax and she cocks her brow at him. "Like I said, I was looking around the place, and..." she pauses, licks her lips, and she takes a deep breath that makes her ribs crack and her heart hurt. "I saw Kathy...with...not you." She flinches, realizing she sounds like a five year old trying to explain what she was doing in Mommy's purse.

"Not me," he repeats, trying to follow. "So...she was with...another guy?"

Olivia clears her throat and feels the car jerk as he turns the wheel too hard. _This is going well. _"Uh, yeah," she nods. "At first I thought, ya know, business meeting, it was an accountant or something, but…" the waves crash. Her stomach lurches. She's not sure if it's Elliot's driving or what she's about to tell him. "He...they…"

"Spit it out, Benson!" he yells, slamming on the brakes. The car screeches and he turns to her, wide-eyed, nostrils flaring. "What the hell are you trying to tell me, here?"

"She kissed him," she winces. "Not a friendly peck on the cheek. They...it was very...clearly a date." She waits for the explosion. It doesn't come. She opens one eye carefully, and she sees that he looks eerily calm, his shoulders rounded and his face a bit lax. "I'm...I'm sorry." She drops her shoulders and opens the other eye. "I wasn't going to tell you, I thought...ya know, it wasn't my place, and she'd tell you if…" she pauses. He gives her silence. "When I realized she wasn't going to say anything, and she would just come down and traipse around the squadroom like fucking June Cleaver, doting on you over every fucking little thing…" she stops herself, knowing it isn't the best time to let her own unrequited feelings come to light. "I had to tell you. I'm so...I'm so sorry."

He remains silent. He looks away from her, the unreadable expression on his face catching the light at a new angle. He drops his gaze and stares for a moment at the embossed emblem of the horn in the middle of the steering wheel. He runs his hands over the leather in circles a few times, contemplating something. "We're here," he says, and then he's out of the car and halfway down the pier.

"Fuck," Olivia hisses, opening her door to follow. She walks toward the flashing lights and busy uniforms, and she feels the waves crash again, this time slower and softer as if it's the last time they'll ever hit the rocks.

The secret's out.

She's told him; it will stop eating away at her, she hopes, and she prays the fallout is limited and she won't get caught up in the war she knows is brewing between Elliot and Kathy. But, as she moves closer to him, catching up to his large frame, she submits and understands there's no way she's going to let him fall alone.

They're about to go down.

Like toy soldiers.

**A/N: Uh oh?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_**Even though I hold the weight of the whole world on my shoulders. **__**I ain't never supposed to show it, my crew ain't supposed to know it - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Olivia hangs up the call, rolling her eyes and scoffing hard. She mumbles something under her breath, which her partner hears and laughs at, but she shoots him a hard look. "I'm serious," she spits.

"He's just worried about you," Elliot says, leaning back against a stack of wooden crates. "So am I."

"I'm a grown woman," she returns, annoyed. "And, trust me, this is not the first time I've refused medical attention." She huffs and shoves her hands in her pockets. "I'm fine."

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at her, licks his lips, but lets it go. He knows that when it comes to her, he has to pick his battles. "We disobeyed a direct order," he shrugs. "Not the first time, won't be the last, but he's not too happy about it, anyhow." He looks around and shakes his head. "Son of a bitch knew dumping her here would compromise any evidence he left behind," he speaks, turning the focus of the conversation away from their refusal to be seen by the EMT and toward their case. "Saltwater's been splashing on her all morning, the cold...the birds…" he makes a face as he looks toward the medical examiner. "What's taking her so long to tell us she's got nothing for us?"

Olivia folds her arms, her leather jacket creaking and crunching as she moves. "She likes to think that, when we get to the scene, we're on her time. She'll get to us when she gets to us, we have to deal with it." Biting her lip, she moves to stand beside him. "Doesn't think we have anything else to do."

He turns to her, squinting to keep the sun out of his eyes, but he smiles at her. "Okay, what's with the mood?"

She furrows her brow and gives a short frown, shrugging her shoulders quickly. "No mood," she counters diverting her gaze from him to the ME, as if trying to get her attention.

"Is it because of what happend at the station?" he asks, curious and worried at the same time. He raises a hand, softly brushes a few wavy strands of hair out of her eyes. "We're okay, everyone...everyone's okay."

She looks away from him, an incredulous snort escapes as she gives a slight shake of her head. "No, nearly getting blown out of a building is the least of…"

A loud shouting voice interrupts what would have led to an argument, thankfully, and Olivia's head snaps toward it with a quick response. "Find something we can use?"

Elliot grabs Olivia's sleeve and tugs her away from the cargo, leading her toward the medical examiner. "Please, say yes," he yells toward the woman.

"It's all bad news, sorry to say," Dr. Melinda Warner shakes her head in disgust as she looks down at the body of their victim. "Not just the elements, but...some sort of chemical...all over her. I swabbed it for you." She holds out a clear, plastic evidence bag and a black pen. "I already signed it, turning it over to you."

Elliot doesn't move to take it. "Shouldn't you give this to the…"

"Crime Lab?" Warner smirks. "I don't make deliveries, Stabler." Her eyes move, traveling the length of his body, and then she gives him a crooked smile as she asks, "You, uh, roll in the dirt this morning? You and that partner of yours get frisky behind those crates?"

"No, we were almost blown up, though," he answers, his tone cold, "Thanks for making jokes."

Warner's eyes widen. "The precinct that...we heard the call over the radio, that was yours?" She watches him close his eyes and nod, his tongue poking out between his pressed together lips. "Sorry, I didn't…" she clears her throat and tosses her head to the side, getting her long, dark curls out of her face. "Is everyone okay? Are you...are you okay?"

Nodding, he hums. "We're all okay, the place is a mess, but we…" he turns his head, his eyes finding Olivia kneeling by the body. "We're okay." He sighs as he looks at Warner again and takes the sealed bag from her. He signs it fast, marking chain of evidence, and nods his thanks. "You, uh, you'll let us know…"

"As soon as I find something, you'll be my first call," she interrupts, and she slowly reaches for his shoulder, brushing away a bit of white soot. "You're sure you're…"

"I'm fine," he nods again, offering a polite smile, and then he moves toward Olivia, crouches beside her, and says, "Okay, Columbo. What'd you see that the doctor didn't?"

She carefully lifts the vic's arm, holding it gingerly in her gloved hand. "She was wearing something. A watch, or maybe a bracelet. It was ripped off of her wrist," she indicates the angry red marks where the metal had scraped the girl's skin. "Souvenir?"

"Trophy," Elliot corrects with a single, curt nod. He pats her knee and rises to his feet, and then sniffles a bit. "I figured out what your problem is."

She peels off her rubber glove and chuckles. "Enlighten me," she says, daring him with a quirked eyebrow. She shoves the rolled up glove into her jacket pocket and turns her back on him, one of those almost dissipated waves of guilt rising again. She has a feeling he does know, and that he's about to bring up a subject she'd hoped would stay buried beneath their case.

"You think I'm ignoring what you told me," he says, walking with her toward their car. He digs around in his pocket for the keys as he says, "I'm not, I...I heard you, I'm processing it, I just…" he aims the alarm fob and clicks a button, disarming and unlocking the Ford. "Shit happens, ya know?" He shrugs. "There are a couple's things that are a bit more important to me right now than the fact you saw my wife at a fancy restaurant…"

"Kissing another man!" she turns and barks, unable to fathom why he isn't more broken up over it. "I'm not lying to you, Elliot! I'm not trying to start shit between you and...that...blonde…" she makes a frustrated grunting noise rather than insult her partner's wife. "It happened, I saw it, so did…"

"For the love of God," he whines, intruding on her speech. "Don't say his name." The second time today he'd made such a demand.

She ignores it. "If you want me to call him, he'll tell you…"

"No, thanks," he spits, almost disgusted. "I never said I didn't believe you, did I?" He opens the driver's side door, then rests his upper body over the hood of the silver car. He looks into her eyes. "I believe you, I get it, okay? But like I said, that's not exactly my top priority right now." He sees the look in her eyes. Their darkness and depth tells him everything he needs to hear from her, loud and clear, even though he is sure she has no idea of it. He runs his tongue over his lips, suddenly feeling parched. "We need to drop this off at the lab," he holds up the bagged swab Warner had given him.

She closes her eyes, nods, and slips quietly into the passenger side of the car. As soon as her ass hits the seat, she feels the weight of the morning hit her fully. Crushing fear, debilitating relief, the barest dregs of hope, unresolved frustration, unfocused rage. She balls her hands into fists, knuckle white tension in them, and longs for something to hit.

This doesn't go unnoticed by her partner, and as he starts the car he looks over at her. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to have the anger issues," he jokes, one of his large, rough hands cupping over her left fist. He feels her hand relax, her fist loosens under his touch. When she brings her eyes up to meet his, he has to remind himself who she is, where they are, that what is going through his mind is inappropriate at the moment. "Relax," he whispers to her, but he's also chiding himself. He grazes her skin with the pad of his thumb, his eyes still on hers. "You're more upset about this than I am, and I…"

"Exactly," she bites at him, shaking her head. "Damn right I'm upset. Why the hell aren't you?" As if she only just realizes his hand is laying over hers, she pulls back and looks away from him.

He eases away from her, shifts the car into drive, and heads away from the dock as he tells her, "I am. Just...not about…" he stops talking and steps on the gas, speeding away. "So we need to think, here, because we don't have any leads." He changes the subject again as he slaps the blinker down and gnaws on his lower lip. "Maybe the parents will give us something, an old boyfriend, a jilted ex, a jealous lover…"

"Angry parent," Olivia adds, a flash of recollection and pain in her eyes. "Or maybe it's random, maybe it's the same guy we've been chasing for a week." She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. "Fits his MO, he knows we're onto him, so now he's cleaning up after himself. Guaranteed that swab is soaked in commercial cleanser or bleach, something anyone with five bucks can buy at any store on the East Coast." She clicks her tongue and drops her head back against the car seat. "We still won't have a solid lead."

Elliot pulls the car over to the curb, parks, and turns the key, silencing the engine. He takes a deep breath and lets it slowly out through his nostrils, and then turns his head. "I'm gonna run in and drop this off," he wiggles the plastic bag. "But before I do, I need to say something." He looks as deeply into his eyes as he can. "The reason I'm not even thinking about Kathy...and her...whatever that is...is because since I woke up this morning the only person I really give a flying monkey's ass about, especially after almost becoming permanently embedded in the side of the One-Six...is you." He doesn't wait for a reaction, he simply gets out of the car, heading into the stark white building that housed the NYPD labs.

She watches him go, completely befuddled, stuck on his words. She exhales harshly and runs her hands through her hair, trying to gain composure and compartmentalize. "Get a grip," she scolds herself, and just as she almost convinces herself he means nothing more than partnerly concern for her well-being, her phone chirps. She fishes it out of her pocket and grimaces at the number and name blinking on her screen. "Hi, Kathy," she says, her eyes cringing shut. "Um, when? Oh, uh, ya know, just a date. You were? Were you and Elliot celebrating something?" She lets out a soft curse, spotting Elliot coming back through the front doors of the lab. "No, nope, uh, didn't see you. Would've come to say hi," she babbles, "Kathy, I gotta go, duty calls. Hug the kids for me!"

Elliot gets into the car just in time to see her shove her phone back into her pocket. "Who was…"

"You don't want to know," she utters, hoping he'd assume it was the man whose name he doesn't want her to say, even though she'd broken up with him immediately following that eventful dinner at Fratelli's. "Where to?" she tries to smile, though her stomach is now the site of a vengeful storm, tidal waves of rising bile and fury whirling against downpours of guilt and compassion, filling with puddles of love.

He smiles back, and he swears there's something hidden in her eyes that means everything to him, but unsure how to be certain. "Where else?" he sighs and starts the car. "The girl's parents."

**A/N: What did Kathy say to her? Will Elliot go home and confront his issues? Who is the man Elliot doesn't want Olivia to talk about?** **So many questions...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_**Even if it means going toe to toe with the Benzino, it don't matter. I never drag 'em in battles that I can handle less I absolutely have to - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Earth to Olivia!" His chuckling voice calls, though his mouth is full of hot dog and kraut.

She licks her lips, swooping away a bit of mustard, and she blinks once at him. "What?"

He narrows his eyes then, tugs lightly at the hem of his cotton tee shirt, and tilts his head. "You haven't said two words to me since we got back here."

She shrugs and plays it off, biting into her hot dog. "We were thrown into chairs and poked and prodded by Dr. Jekyll," she states, recalling how as soon as they'd made it back to the precinct, Cragen had them examined by the EMTs who were still outside. "Then we grabbed a couple of showers, changed, came out here, you dragged me over to the hot dog cart...when, exactly, was I supposed to talk to you?"

He chews as he laughs, and then he sets his half-gone hot dog down on the napkin in his lap, sighs, and shakes his head. "Speaking of showers, that bathroom was incredible. Homicide's got nicer digs than us," he says, an effort to start a conversation.

"The janitors have nicer digs than us," she counters with a quirked brow. "You're not cold?" She's noticed he's wearing a dark blue NYPD tee shirt, short sleeves, and that his coat is on the bench beside him. His muscles are tense and twitchy under the fabric, there's something in his eyes that wasn't there a minute ago.

He shakes his head. "Fine," he says, wiping his hands together. He scoots over, closer to her, until his knee is leaning against hers, and he holds his breath as he slowly inches his left hand toward her right. Watching her eyes for any sign of fight or flight, he smiles and curls his larger, stronger fingers around hers. He squeezes. "Are you okay?"

She scrapes her teeth over her lip and nods, lying but for his own good. "This is...this like a bad dream," she whispers, looking around at the scene: cops she doesn't know in uniforms she doesn't recognize, every member of her unit milling about, other detectives from other units bringing coffee and bottled water to the displaced SVU, and her captain sitting on a folding chair ten feet away, staring directly at her. "All of it," she says softly.

"What do you mean?" he leans closer, pulling her hand between their hips, not letting it go but not wanting Cragen to see him holding it. "This is just a formality, we can go back in once they're sure that gas is…"

"Not just this," she huffs, throwing a hand up to indicate their current situation. "Everything…" her voice drops to a much lower decibel. "Kathy." She shakes her head and pokes her hot dog bun with her finger, as if trying to see if it's still alive. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I know that, but I…" she looks up at him, she sees the questions in his eyes. "She called me, when we went to the lab."

"That's who you were on the phone with when I got back to the car?" he asks, but it's a silly question as he has his answer now. "What, uh...that's weird, she never calls you. She hates when I call...what did she want?"

She brushes her hair behind her ear just as the wind kicks up, blowing it all into her face again. She hears Elliot laugh and then feels his free hand sweeping her hair back and away. She smiles her thanks, and then she heaves another heavy sigh. "She asked me if I was there that night, I guess she…she saw me. I didn't think she did, but…" she shrugs a bit. "Then she asked if I saw her, if I saw...anything…" she rolls her eyes and gives up trying to sugar coat the obvious. "She has no intentions of telling you! She wanted to know if I saw her there with that...that...asshole, because she knows if I did, I would tell you!"

"You would," he speaks, factual and firm. "You did."

There's a moment of silence. Stillness. She can feel his hand wrapped around hers so tightly his pulse is beating against her wrist. She tries to wiggle her fingers free but all it does is serve to tangle them between his, and he takes it for acceptance and clutches her hand even more firmly. She presses her lips together for a brief moment, savoring how this feels, committing it to memory because part of knows he's only looking for comfort in the darkest moment of his life, another part of her hopes to God she's wrong.

He feels it, too, the tension and heat, and he blinks twice before saying what she needs to hear. "I'm really...I'm okay." He lowers his head, almost shamefully, afraid to admit what he's about to voice out loud. "I'm honestly not surprised. I mean, come on, you know I haven't been the most attentive husband. I can't remember the last time I took Kathy out to dinner, or the last time I came home in time to talk to her before she went to bed." He lets out a soft snort. "I really don't even remember the last time I slept in the bed with her. We get called in at crazy hours, I never wanted to wake her up, so I've been sleeping on the couch."

Those last two words strike her. _The couch_. She isn't sure why she feels a sense of relief, fading jealousy. "None of that matters," she says to him, hoping the cry in her voice isn't as clear as she thinks. "She's your wife."

He grunts in response, turning his eyes toward hers. The sunlight is hitting her in a way that makes her look like and angel, and his heart stops.

"How could she…" she looks away from him and focuses on an oil stain in the gravel. "How could she hurt you like this? You're the most loyal, protective, genuine...I mean, yeah, you got a temper and a few bad habits, but you're smart, and funny, kind and God, you're fucking gorgeous, those eyes are mesmerizing and that body of yours is…" she catches herself and her eyes widen. "She has everything a woman could possibly want, your children, devotion and dedication, it all lies with you, and she…"

"Back up," he says, unsure if he's hearing her correctly but parts of him swelling with certainty. He smirks and he licks his lips. "What were you gonna say? My body is what?" He waits, a self-centered, crooked smile on his face.

"There's your ego," she laughs, shaking her head. "I was just...I don't see how she could just…destroy everything you worked so hard and so long to build." Her eyes drop and she inhales, the chilly air making her lungs burn. "I would...there are people who would give anything for what you two have, how could she just...hurt you?"

"Because, I guess, maybe she needed more than these mesmerizing eyes or this body you refuse to talk about," he lets out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood as he smooths his thumb along the side of her hand. "Someone who knows her the way I know…" he thinks the word but doesn't say it. _You. _"I don't know her anymore, I can admit that. My marriage has been falling apart for years, and we both tried to keep it together, but…"

"You work your ass off for her and the kids," she snaps, suddenly more angry at Kathy than lost in self pity. "You've given up promotions and transfers to stay in the city, to keep your hours steady, you've lost high-profile collars when you needed to get home, you've never missed a ball game or a dance recital or a spelling bee, unless...there were times you just couldn't help it, but...you help them with homework and projects, you provide for them, you love your kids, and you love her!"

Elliot closes his eyes, deciding he needs to stop her before he makes her feel guilty. "No," he breathes, "I don't think I…"

"Oh, my God," she gasps, and she yanks her hand free so suddenly and quickly that it hurts both of them. She rubs her aching fingers as she stands up, backing as far away from Elliot as possible. "You, uh, you don't know anything, okay? I told her I thought she was there with you, that I didn't see shit, so just…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asks, knitting his brows together as he, too, rubs the soreness out of his bruising knuckles. He gets an answer, but not from Olivia.

"Elliot!" Kathy's voice calls, the lithe blonde runs toward him with open arms. When she's close enough, she wraps herself around him, tears running down her cheeks. "Cragen called me, are you okay? What the hell happened? Why didn't you call me when this happened? Christ, Cragen said it happened hours ago! God, it's been hours, do you know what was going…"

"Kathy, please," he stops his wife and he gently eases out of her embrace, though part of him wonders if he would have held her right back if he didn't know about her date. He turns his head, spots Olivia, back to him, her thumbnail between her teeth as she paces back and forth. He knows now he wouldn't, that what he thought before is now honest knowledge. He looks back at Kathy and shakes his head. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Kathy squints and sniffles, and then she swallows a gulp. "I told you, Cragen called, he told me...he said I could come get you. Take you home." She trails her hands down his back and around his sides, taking his hands. "Are you hurt?"

"I didn't get hurt in the explosion," he speaks carefully chosen words, he is hurt in other ways, by her. "Liv's fine, too, ya know."

"Oh," Kathy hides the slight fear when he says her name, she tries to turn her grimace into a smile. "Good. Well, come on, I'll take you to Doctor LaMarques and double…"

"Who is he?" He asks the question in a tender and soft voice. It doesn't ring of anger or hatred, he isn't crying or shaking with fear, he's calm and collected and curious.

Kathy tilts her head, her smile broadens and she clears her throat. "Elliot, you know who our doctor…"

"The man who...took you to dinner Wednesday night," he interrupts, a bit more silver in his voice now. "I mean, at least be decent enough to tell me his name."

"She...she saw...and she told you?" Kathy shoots her angry eyes toward Olivia. "She lied to me?" Her nostrils flare and she makes a move to storm over to the nervous-looking brunette, but Elliot's hand on her arm stops her. She turns her head and looks up, and she sees the emotions in his eyes. Her shoulders round and slump as she shakes her head. "It was one night, and nothing happened…"

"Kissing," he cuts in with slitted eyes. "That's not nothing, that is...that is something, okay?" There was the hurt, the anger. "When you married me, that was a promise...to never kiss anyone like that, besides me!"

"Hypocrite," Kathy spits at him, pulling her arm away from him roughly. "You look me in the eyes, Elliot, and tell me you have never kissed _her_!"

"Completely different," Elliot snaps. He lowers his voice and through a clenched jaw, he speaks. "I may have had to kiss her once or twice, but it was part of the job! When I'm off the clock, I'm _your_ husband and that means I can't kiss her!"

Kathy smirks and looks at him as though he has something else to say. "No matter how much you want to, right?" She shakes her head and chuckles.

"Jesus," he growls. "Don't bring her into this! She has nothing to do with this! You're the one, ironically, throwing…"

"Ironically?" Kathy bites. "You thought about it, but I actually did it, that what you're saying?" She sees the truth in his eyes though no words spill from his lips. "Don't play the Saint Elliot card, don't tell me you didn't enjoy pretending to be her boyfriend or husband, give me some credit, okay? I know what's going on in that head! Please, don't make me out to be the bad guy, here."

"You're the one who acted on impulse," Elliot fumes, and he darts his eyes to Olivia for a moment. "You're supposed to be able to resist temptation and...ignore…" he growls and scratches down his neck. "Marriage takes work, and sacrifice! Vows, Kathy. The ones you took when you promised to be faithful…"

"Oh, you mean the ones I had to recite when I was eighteen because my mother was worried about my future in Heaven?" She licks her lips and folds her arms. "I went out with him, yes, I kissed him, sure, but I didn't go home with him, I didn't spend the night with him. It was dinner and drinks and a few kisses, but I came home to you."

He snorts and shakes his head. "Go home," he tells her. "I don't know why Cragen called you, we have work to do. I probably won't…" he exhales sharply. "I won't be home for a while. Tell the kids...tell them I'm okay."

Kathy turns up her eyes and gives him a way smile as she reaches for his hands. She flinches when he retreats and she sighs when he backs up a full foot with a scowl on his face. "You could tell them yourself, just come…"

"No, I told you," he turns over his shoulder, spots Olivia now lost in a conversation with Munch. "We have work to do." He lets out a breath. "And I need to think, here, all right? There's a lot going on in my head, right now, and I shouldn't be around you while I think about how to...handle this."

Kathy narrows her eyes in Olivia's direction again. "She should've just kept her mouth shut, this is none of her…"

"She only told me when it became crystal fucking clear you weren't going to!" He regrets yelling, seeing a few heads turning to stare. He clears his throat. "You knew she'd tell me, she's my best friend." He shrugs and flattens his lips into an easy smile. It's the thought he is currently thinking that pulls at his lips.

Kathy chuckles. "Yeah," she nods. "But isn't that supposed to be me?" The question goes unanswered. "Be careful, and please...I don't care how late it is, come home." She watches but he doesn't nod and he doesn't speak, so she sighs and turns around, slowly walking back toward her car, confused and angry, and maybe just a little bit relieved.

Elliot breathes out slowly, watching her go, a trail mix of emotions settled in the pit of his stomach. He turns and runs over to Olivia, his hand taking root at the curve of her lower back. "Hey," he whispers. He looks at Munch and nods. "How you feeling?"

Munch shrugs. "No new aches and pains," he says with a stony expression. "Just the ones I woke up with." He peers at Elliot over the gold rims of his glasses. "You okay? That looked like a heavy conversation."

Olivia feels his hand, his fingers curl and scratch at her back, and then he's caressing, making slow circles. She turns to him, tilts her head. "El?"

He smiles. "I'm good," he inhales. His eyes close. He blows his breath out slowly through a small o, and he opens his eyes. "I'm good," he repeats, but it's not clear who exactly he's trying to convince.

"Bailey called." She blinks, wondering why he hasn't moved his hand, why it's still drawing intricate designs at her back. "We were right, our vic was Cloroxed and Lysoled," she tells him. "Why are you…"

"Okay," he nods, he finally moves his hand but only up higher, and he gently pushes her toward the bench and their forgotten hot dogs. He grabs his coat, slips his arms through the sleeves, and then turns to her. He tugs on her leather jacket, chuckles at the fact their wearing matching tee shirts, and then he relaxes. "I might need to crash at your place tonight."

"Figured," she says with a single nod, and she catches something in his eyes she doesn't understand. The guilt is gone but in its wake there's intense worry for her partner and intense anger aimed at his wife. "Coffee?" She hopes he says yes; she needs the caffeine desperately, her nerves are shot and she's exhausted in so many ways.

He nods and winks at her, and he reaches for her again to brush the hair out of her eyes as once again the wind blows harder. There's so much he has to say, so many things he needs to talk through with her, and he prays, as they head toward their Ford four door, that she will understand every word.

**A/N: Will Elliot go home and confront his issues? Who is the man Elliot doesn't want Olivia to talk about?** **What does Elliot need to say to Olivia? Still so many questions...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_**I'm suppose to set an example, I need to be the leader. My crew looks for me to guide 'em**__**\- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Olivia stifles a yawn and rubs her eyes, blindly padding her way into her small half-kitchen. "Beer?" she calls into the open room to her left. She doesn't expect him to answer, but knows what he would say. She grabs two amber bottles out of her otherwise empty refrigerator and exhales slowly, shakily. The weight of the day is finally being felt. She jumps, feeling a hand on her back.

"Shh," his chuckling voice playfully scolds. "It's just me," he whispers. He takes one of the bottles from her. He expertly knocks it against her marble-topped counter, opening it, and hands it back to her. He takes the second bottle and does the same, but brings it to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. His hand is still on her back, moving in the same intricate patterns as it had done earlier.

She eyes him, confused and concerned, as she sips her own beer. "Are you…"

"I'm fine," he spits sharply, but his fingers move, curling his large hand around her hip. He squeezes her closer and closes his eyes. "I promise, I'm...all right."

She doesn't believe him; the way he's holding her is raising more questions and emotions than she can handle tonight, but she lets him stay where he is and do what he does. "I, um, I wasn't sure you were coming back here, I thought…"

"I told you I was," he says.

She notices his voice is lower, throaty, and his fingers are running along her hip, between her skin and the elastic band of her flannel pants. She bites her lip to keep from moaning, not willing to believe this is anything other than his absentminded fidgeting. "I know," she whispers, "But you went home, so…"

"Please," he scoffs, and he sips his beer again, swallowing with a refreshed gasp before saying, "That house...isn't home. It hasn't been in…" he thinks. He smirks. "A couple years." He narrows his eyes, then, and he drops his bottle to the counter as he spins Olivia around in his hold. He looks into her eyes and moves his other hand to her other hip. "You thought I'd forgive her? Stay with her after she…"

With a shrug and a roll of her eyes, she elbows her way out of his half-embrace and sips her beer on the way to her couch. Over her shoulder, she says, "I thought you'd work things out with your wife, yes. Why wouldn't you have…"

His laugh stops her words; his eyes are darker and the grip on his beer is so tight his knuckles have turned white. He plops into the space beside her on the sofa, rests his right hand on her knee, and he sighs on the tail end of a chuckle. "Sweet, innocent, naive Olivia." He winks at her and his hand moves up her thigh and back down to her knee. "I had a long talk with her. There's no coming back from this."

She narrows her eyes again, but this time it's almost fury that's hidden in them. "Excuse me," she shifts and twists her body. "What the hell does that even mean? She went on a date, tell me she...was it just…"

He is taken aback by her anger, but knows it's directed at Kathy. "No, it wasn't just one date," he intrudes, his hand suddenly gripping her knee too tightly. His eyes have slitted and his nostrils are flaring, his own rage bubbling over. "She's been fucking seeing someone for weeks! I'm here, trying like hell to do right by my family! I have ignored my own feelings and swept my fucking needs under the goddamn rug for the last three fucking years, because I am a fucking married man, a father, and a goddamn decent human being!"

"Ow," she exaggerates with wide eyes, trying to pull his talons off of her kneecap before he crushes it, but she's listening to his rant and wondering what he means. "No one ever said you…"

He rips his hand off of her leg and offers a grunted apology, gulps down a bit of his beer, and then lets out a noise between a growl and a bitter laugh. "She had the fucking nerve to blame me. Said I wasn't home enough, she felt neglected, it just happened, and then she said I would have noticed long ago if I wasn't…" his voice cuts out, his eyes drop, and he starts peeling the label off of the bottle that's settled between his legs.

"If you weren't…" she repeats, holding a note on the last syllable hoping to prod him into finishing his statement. When it becomes clear he doesn't want to say anything else, she moves. She stretches her legs out a bit, turns more fully toward him as she inches closer to him, and she puts her beer down on the coffee table. She squints at it, noticing the finish of the wood is peeling away, there are watermarks and coffee rings all over it, the legs are wobbly, but it refuses to give out. She runs a hand along the edge and she can't help feeling like it's a metaphor for her life. Her attention returns to Elliot, then, and she says, "You know she's just trying to make excuses," she offers. "She doesn't want to take responsibility for this, she feels like she has to justify it and make you the bad guy, so she can guilt you into letting it go."

"I know that," he says softly, dropping his head back against the couch. His eyes close again and he lets a long breath out through his nostrils. "I'm home whenever I can possible be there! I haven't been neglecting my kids, but maybe...maybe I have been neglecting her. Maybe she's right."

"That's bullshit," she says to him, and she starts to say something else but he stops her with a question that makes her eyes pop. "Wow, uh, where...where did that come from? Why the hell are you…"

"Please, just answer the question," he winces as he speaks, the words come out almost whining. He lets his head roll to his right so he can see her face.

She swallows a forming lump in her throat. There's a desperation in his eyes that she's never seen before and a pain behind it that breaks her heart. She licks her lips and catches the lower one between her teeth. "I really don't think it's any of your…"

"Your entire life," he interrupts, his head popping up, "is my business. Please, just...tell me if you slept with him." He tries to plead with her through the intensity of his stare while, at the same time, making a deal with God that almost embarrasses him even though she isn't aware at all. He waits, and he prays.

"No," she says on a whisper, her mind swimming in the deep end of absolute confusion. "Not even close. We went out a couple of times, but something always came up and cut the night short. We...well, I guess after the last time...when I saw Kathy…" she grimaces at the way the name feels in her mouth, "We gave up trying."

He visibly and obviously relaxes. There's a relieved smile on his face he doesn't try to hide and he doesn't pretend to be sympathetically upset about her failed attempt at a relationship. "Okay, that's…" he nods and then he pauses, thinking. "And I know you didn't even get past first base with that schmuck from your gym, which was…" he mumbles something softly and then he chuckles. "Weird, isn't it?"

"You are acting incredibly weird, yes," she tells him with a stone face and flat voice.

He laughs again and shakes his head. "No, I mean...I was just doing the math in my head, here, and I think...I'm pretty damn sure, actually, that neither of us has gotten laid in…"

"Jesus," she hisses, holding up a hand. She leans over and grabs her beer, ignoring Elliot's boisterous laughter. She clenches her eyes shut and downs half the bottle before swallowing and shooting an annoyed glare at her partner. "What the fuck?"

He's still laughing as he moves and leans forward. He scratches the side of his head and playfully bumps her with his shoulder. "Think about it," he begins, "I think we both know when this, uh, sudden onset of abstinence started."

She isn't sure what he means until she looks into his eyes. His baby blues are upturned, his lips are cooled to the side in what can only be described as a puckered smirk, and he's still nervously scratching the back of his head. "Oh," she realizes. "Oh, my God." She stiffens and her back straightens as she backs away from him. "No," she denies, shaking her head.

"Yeah," he counters, gnashing on his lower lip. He nods and gives another, "Yeah."

"Fucking…" she takes her hand through her hair and gets off the couch, pulling at the hem of her Siena College tee shirt. She grabs the two empty bottles and rushes back into the kitchen, tosses them into the blue recycling bin, and she exhales as she tries to calm her nerves. He's figured out her deepest secret, her darkest humiliation, and he's using it to gain the upper hand in the constant game of emotional tug-of-war they've been playing for three fucking years. She hears him rushing toward her and she moves fast, dodging his hands that have been so brazen lately. "Don't," she warns, holding one hand up, palm out at him.

"Fuck," he spits, "I'm not!" He runs a hand down his face. "I swear, I'm not...okay, but this isn't new! I've been trying to tell you for a fucking month!" He exhales and he shrugs dejectedly. "Kathy was fucking right. That...those two weeks felt…" he shakes his head and he licks his lips. "And then coming home to my real wife, well, it fucking sucked compare to what we…"

"I know you're grieving, you're at war with your wife, but don't drag me into it," she snaps, uninterested in letting him say anything that would convince her he feels something more than friendship for her. She turns and looks at him, pulls lightly and quickly at the collar of her tee shirt because suddenly it's a thousand degrees in her kitchen, and she shakes her head. "That's not fair."

"No,it's not," he sighs, and he moves closer to her stopping just shy of touching her. "But it's true. It is. And that's why Kathy felt like she had some kind of unspoken permission to…" he looks down at the gray tiled floor, and then he presses both hands into the counter as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "She suggested something tonight, it made my stomach turn."

"There's a bottle of Pepto in the bathroom," she bites, but when she realizes he does look ill, she moves a shaky hand to his shoulder. "Okay, what did she…"

"An open marriage," he scoffs with a disgusted face, "God, can you believe that shit? She wanted me to give her free reign to see...to fuck whoever she wants, and still stand by her." He shakes his head and turns up his nose. "No fucking way. No way in hell. We're supposed to be setting an example for our kids! Showing them what love is, proving that it…" he huffs. "Besides, there's only one person I would ever want to be with," he looks at her sideways. "And if that happens, ever, I'm giving everything to her. Everything she deserves, and everything I want her to have. Every part of me she doesn't already fucking own, and that includes my name." He gives her a vile, evil grin. "I refuse to make her something so obscene, when I really...when she's the one I should fucking be married to, anyway, if I'm

being honest." He shakes his head. "Or maybe I'm just really fucking losing my mind over this shit."

"Woah," she breathes. "So, you're already thinking about…"

He stops her when he slaps his hand over hers, still on his shoulder, and he turns. "I realized when she asked me...the vows we took when we...well, we had no fucking choice, let's be honest, but they don't mean anything to her anymore. To me, they...they mean fucking everything, but...not…" he exhales slowly, turns his body more to face her, and pulls her hand off of his shoulder. He clutches it tighter and he whispers, "I realized, I don't hold those vows as a promise to Kathy anymore. I feel like...they're a promise...to…you."

Her eyes widen and she can't breathe. They're staring at each other. It's so quiet they can hear each other's heart pound and somewhere in the apartment there's a ticking clock that interrupts their rhythm just a bit. There's an electric hum as his confession lands, and no one makes a move. No one speaks.

Her cell phone rings, startling them both and causing the two of them to jump and gasp. They'd been lost in the intimacy of the moment and the weight of what was about to be exposed, waiting for it with such nervous tension, that now they're having matching panic attacks. "Benson," she breathes, answering the call as she splays a hand over her thumping heart.

He watches her, so intently. The way her lips form certain words, the way her hair falls in loose waves that bob when she moves, the way her shirt and pajama pants are so loose they reveal bits of skin that make his palms sweat. "What, uh," he clears his throat as she hangs up. "Who was…"

"Cragen," she exhales, brushing her hair back. "He has something to tell us about the attack on the unit, and we got a DB on Madison." She eyes him for a moment. "I need to...get dressed." She moves and he follows her but she throws her head back and laughs. "Holy shit, no," she points at him and twists her grin into a teasing smirk. "You...stay."

He responds with two raised arms and a mischievous smile of his own. "Yes, Detective Benson," he quips with a wink. He watches her disappear behind her bedroom door and once it's closed, he crumples onto the couch. "Fuck," he spits, rubbing his eyes. "Idiot. Fucking idiot." He takes a breath and tries to figure out why he said what he said, why he can't seem to keep his hands off of her, why he doesn't feel anything but disappointed relief in the way he's left things with his wife. He folds his hands and bows his head and he sends up another silent prayer, but this time he's asking for self-control and clarity.

One of those things, he can sense it, is going to be given to him, an answered prayer, sooner than he anticipates. But the other...he is certain will stay far out of reach for a little while longer.

**A/N: Which is which…? And what two weeks is Elliot remembering? Will Olivia assume Elliot was just upset, or will she let herself believe him? Where do they go from here? **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_**If some shit ever just pop off I'm suppose to be beside 'em.- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

As she heads toward the flashing lights and crowd of people, Olivia looks around and sighs. Madison Avenue is different at one in the morning. It's quiet, most of the storefront lights are dim which bathes the street in an almost angelic glow, and the brick and carved marble facades are prominently displayed without a million people in the way of them.

She sighs as her heels click on the blacktop road, and her eyes land on a townhouse to her left. When she passes it, she feels her lips surrender to a contrite grin. She could have had the kind of life that would have afforded her a place like that, if she had listened to her mother. But then, she turns her head slightly to look over her shoulder at her partner. If she had listened to her mother, he wouldn't be a part of her life, a part of her...period.

"Liv," his voice calls to her, and it makes her stop and turn her attention to him completely. She tilts her head at him, watching as he steps up to her and holds out a hand. With a roll of her eyes and a sigh of compliance, she pulls a latex glove out of her pocket and slaps it down into his open palm. She shakes her head and gives him a knowing chuckle. "When are you gonna start carrying your own?"

"Probably never," he shrugs and turns down his lower lip in a playful pout. "You always have enough for both of us and I don't plan on trading you in." He winks at her and tugs the glove over his hand as he steps under the yellow plastic tape. He nods his thanks to the officer who's holding it up for him and then takes over, wanting to be the one that holds it up for Olivia. "What did Cragen say to you?"

"Hmm?" she turns with innocent eyes, pretending not to know what he's talking about.

He leads her over to the medical examiner and says, "Come on, he told you what happened yesterday. I know he did, and when you came out of his office you...you barely said two words to me, here. The whole ride over here you were more quiet than I think you've ever been."

She exhales and looks from him to the crouching woman in the white lab coat, plucking at the latex wrapped around her wrist. "He said that the lab identified the gas," she clears her throat. "It would have knocked everyone out, made us all sick, but it wasn't lethal." She scrapes her teeth over her lips and sends a glance over her shoulder, looking back at the townhouse down the street, and she heaves another heavy sigh. "They're thinking someone wanted us all out of commission for a while so they could ransack the pen."

"They were after something?" Elliot muses, and he tries to follow Olivia's line of sight, wondering what she's staring at. "What?"

"No idea." She turns back to him and answers the question, unaware it's not exactly what he's asking. "Things didn't go as planned, everyone on the floor evacuated and nothing was touched while we were out." She gives him a pointed look, willing him to read her mind.

His eyes widen. "Someone in the unit?" he questions in a harsh and angry whisper.

She bites her lip and nods. "Guy had to have already been up there, ready and waiting, and was ushered out when everyone fled." She cracks her knuckles and shrugs. "He must have needed...maybe ID cards, keys, or something...because if he was just after something in one of the desks or the storage unit, he wouldn't have needed to gas us."

"He needed one of us? Why?" he asks and rubs his forehead with his gloved hand. "I mean, there are much simpler ways to…"

"Detectives?" The medical examiner raises an arm and beckons them, stopping the conversation. "I'm ready for you."

The way the woman looks at Elliot strikes Olivia, and her defenses shoot up high. "Yeah, El, she's ready for you." She nudges him with her elbow. "Go for it."

"Uh, I'll pass," he jokes, and he elbows her right back. He takes a breath and looks at the doctor. "What are we dealing with?"

The redhead looks at him, her green eyes sparkle as she licks her lips and folds her arms. She's deliberately trying to puff up her chest and she smiles a bit too wantonly for their current situation. "Body dump," she says with a soft voice. "I found particulates and fluids, I'll have them run through the lab. I promise you, I am very...thorough." She raises and lowers her eyebrows quickly as she speaks, and her head drops just a bit.

Olivia can't help her snorting laughter, but she lifts her hand to her face to try to hide it. She clears her throat and tightens her lips in an attempt to keep from laughing again. "Got a COD?"

The redheaded doctor turns to her with a narrow-eyed glare, nods once, and says, "Blunt force trauma to the back of the head."

Olivia nods back, noticing the difference in tone and attitude, and she chuckles to herself as she watches the woman turn back to Elliot, batting her eyes and twirling a copper-colored curl around her finger. Her eyes narrow slightly; the woman has reached out a hand to smooth over Elliot's tie. One of Olivia's eyebrows quirks, then, as she sees Elliot respond by pulling his tie away, fixing it himself, and backing up. Annoyed now, Olivia raises her voice. "Did you find an ID? Get an approximate age? Come on, Barton, stop flirting with my partner and do your job."

Barton glares at her again, but she moves toward her and hands her a sealed plastic bag. "Wallet, jewelry, and keys."

"This wasn't a mugging, and he didn't take any trophies,," Elliot says, hiding protectively behind Olivia when the medical examiner steps closer. He moves his left hand down and lightly drapes it over Olivia's hip as he leans over her shoulder. "What's her name?"

"Donna Garver," she replies, trying to keep her breath steady. He's too close, and he smells too good, and her heart is holding onto the coffee ground memories of the most incredible two weeks of her life. She doesn't trust herself, not when he's vulnerable, not when he said something that gave her hope for more "Um," she coughs, "Her address is a few blocks from here."

He hums again, his hot breath lands on her neck. "Maybe she was walking home, do-er surprised her?"

Olivia turned her head, jumping back a bit at how close his face had been to hers, and the action forces his hand tighter around her hip. "Maybe," she says to him, her eyes darkening as she feels the pressure of his fingers, his palm, his touch. She shifts away from him, looks back at the doctor, and says, "How long do you think it'll take to run those samples?"

Barton looks from Elliot to Olivia and back again, clearly not seeing his hand on her, and she offers him another smile. "I can rush it, but I promise...I work best when I take my time."

"Oh, for the love of God," Olivia fumes and shakes her head. "How long?"

"Couple hours," Barton snaps, her heated gaze directed at Olivia with a flat-mouthed sneer. "I have to do a full exam on the vic first. I'll call you when I get the results," she pauses and looks back at Elliot. "I got your number."

Elliot closes his eyes and shakes his head, unsure of what the hell has just happened, and says, "Okay, thanks," as he nudges Olivia away from the doctor and over to the body. "Holy Hell," he breathes once he's at a safe distance.

"Oh, Detective Stabler, take me to your lab," Olivia says in a lilting voice, mocking the doctor, "I know how to use all of your equipment," she teases.

"Shut up," he laughs, and he drops to his knees and tugs on her pant leg, asking her to do the same. Once he can feel her crouched beside her, he starts looking, studying, and pointing. "You see that?"

"Bruising," she nods, and then she notices. "A handprint?"

He gives her an affirmative noise, snapping his fingers to get the attention of one of the roaming investigators. "I need pictures," says to the young man who answered, "This...and this...and a couple of the whole body." He directs the tech with the camera, and then turns to Olivia again. "Thanks for hanging me out to dry, back there. You could have stopped her instead of cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Oh, it was too much fun watching her crash and burn," Olivia retorts with a laugh. "You can't tell me you weren't eating that up. She was practically throwing herself at you."

"Yeah, uh, you know I wasn't planning on catching her, right?" His eyebrows wave and he gives a curt bow of his head. He shakes it off as he grabs her hand and pulls them both up to their feet. "We got everything we can get from here, I think."

"Yeah, now the fun part," she says as she holds up the bagged wallet. "We go wake up her family and tell them…" she looks down and she feels the guilt that eats away at her case after case. "Their daughter isn't coming home."

"Hey," he whispers, and he moves closer to her, lowers his voice. "I know this is the part of the job that fucking sucks, buts it the part that's the most important. I'm honored that it usually falls on us, it's the delicate moments that make us great, because...can you imagine a distraught family hearing something like this from Munch?" He sees her smile and hears her chuckle and he pats himself on the back for the sweet victory. He lets out a slow breath and then, for a reason he doesn't think he can admit, he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and says, "Ready?"

She nods and then slips away from him, the flutter in her heart is faster now that he's touched her in a way that screams love and looked at her just as adoringly. She blinks hard, reminding herself that they're not undercover anymore. They're not married, she's not allowed to love him and he's not allowed to make her feel like he loves her.

She's brought back to reality and smiles at the cop who lifts the crime scene tape for them again, and she pulls off her gloves as they step back out onto the street.

His cell phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket, eying Olivia. "Why isn't yours ringing?" he asks.

"Because everyone knows I'm with you," she says with a shrug.

He laughs, but then he spits a hard curse as he looks down at the caller's name. "Kathy," he hisses, ignoring the call.

"Answer it!" Olivia gasps with wide eyes. "Look what time it is! If she's calling, there might an emerg…"

"She's called every hour," he interrupts. "My kids are fine, she's just desperate." He pulls open the passenger side door to their Ford, but he stops her before she can get in, holding her attention with only the thin metal door between them. "What I said...in the kitchen, before we…"

"I know," she cuts in before he can apologize. "I figured you were just upset, you were confused and you…"

"Meant it," he says, overlapping her. "I meant it." He waits for a response but all he gets is a wide eyed blank stare. "I just wanted you to know…" he blinks once.

She lets out a heavy breath, the weight of it more symbolic than she knows, and she says, "I know you're going through a lot right now." She softens her gaze. "I'm here, okay? I'm gonna be right by your side, no matter what happens with your wife. You don't have to try to…"

"I'm not trying to do anything," he interjects, mildly offended.

She tries to say something else to him, but now it's her phone that rings. She rolls her eyes and without even looking at the phone she answers the call. "Benson. What? Oh, hi." She gives Elliot a cautionary smirk. "At work. We were busy, Kathy. On the way to notify a family that...no, just...go to sleep. He's fine. Well, you didn't think I was gonna keep it from him, did you? Look, I have to go." She hung up and let out a scoff as she looked again at Elliot. "She sends her love."

His smile fades and he grunts as he walks away and moves around the car to the driver's side. "What the hell did she want?" he asks as he sits.

The doors slam, he starts the car, and then she answers. "She wanted to know if you were awake. She was trying to convince you to...go home."

He presses his lips together and slams a hand against the steering wheel. Thinking for a moment, he turns the key, cutting the engine. "Address is a couple streets away, right?"

"Two blocks," she confirms. "Why?"

"Get out," he says, opening his door again. "It's a nice night, and I think…" he looks at her. "We should walk."

**A/N: Will we get details of their two weeks undercover? Who was after what in the unit? And will Elliot go home to Kathy? **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_**And even though the battle was won, I feel like we lost it. I spent so much energy on it, honestly I'm exhausted- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

They've walked a block and a half already, and he hasn't said a damn thing. Neither of them has said a single word, and her eyes travel over the urban landscape again as she sighs and waits for him to say something, because she knows there was a reason he wanted to walk.

The sidewalks, usually packed with pedestrians, are empty except for an elderly woman in a nightrobe walking her Yorkie. There's no dented trash cans or graffiti'd walls on this side of town, she notices, and she chuckles as she thinks about the artistic rendition of the current President that's painted on the side of the dumpster behind her midtown apartment. Her eye catches the obnoxiously bright colors to her left, and she chuckles. Someone has yarn-bombed every tree on the block, knitted patterns wind around each truck like arbor sweaters and she narrows her eyes, regretting the fact that she refused to let her mother teach her how to knit. She looks up the avenue, then, and shakes her head, realizing how vastly different the city is, only three streets away, and she tries to forget how she almost had the kind of life where she never would've noticed.

"You're quiet," he says, and it snaps her head toward him. He shrugs and says, "You're not talking to me, now?"

She rolls her eyes. "You wanted to take this walk, I assumed you'd do the talking."

He clears his throat and nods as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black wool coat. "Yeah, uh," he exhales and he can see a white cloud puff out of his mouth. It suddenly hits him how cold it must be, and he winces knowing that Olivia's only wearing a short-sleeved tee shirt under her leather jacket, and he feels guilty for not grabbing a hoodie or something for her. He shakes it off and scratches his chin. "You said...Kathy wants me to go home."

"Yeah," Olivia nods, trying to hide the timber in her voice. "She sounded...like you said, desperate." She eyes him, hoping he won't snap at her for insulting his wife. She knew he would react, but she never expected to see him laugh and agree with her. She raises a brow and asks, "Do you want me to drive you back after…"

"No, uh, that's...that's why I wanted to walk over to the…" he points a finger in the direction of the vic's house, one shoulder rising up to meet an ear. "I wanted...time, I guess. Time with you, alone, when it's quiet...to tell you…" his brows squish together as his lip seems to curl itself between his teeth. "I'm not going home." He sees the look in her eyes and he can't tell if it's excitement or horror. "Well, not...not for anything other than grabbing a bag of my shit and telling her I'm done." He drags his fingers across his forehead, an audible sigh escaping, and he laughs in spite of his situation. "How could she...do I really come off as the kinda guy who would let his wife sleep with another man...and still…"

"She slept with him?" Her voice breaks into his pensive words, disdain dripping from every syllable that leaves her lips.

He holds up a hand and tilts his head. "I don't know, I didn't ask, she says it was all just innocent but, fuck, she wants to, that's why she actually asked if we could…" he wrinkles his nose and strokes his throat, a horrible taste in his mouth makes him gag. "I don't even wanna think about it." He presses his lips together, folding them over each other, and he gnaws lightly, biting down against them as he thinks. "Uh, well, I guess...hearing her even suggest it made me realize…" he turns and he looks at her. "It doesn't bother me, I don't care who she fucks or how many men she has dinner with," he lets out a half-laugh that catches in his throat on the way up, "I just don't wanna be married to her while she's doing it."

"That's fucking understandable," she spits with a firm bow of her head, "But what I don't fucking understand...is how she could possibly even want to go out with anyone else, or fuck whomever...when she has you at home." Her words come out without shame, a smugness in them. "I mean," she clears her throat and looks straight ahead, practically able to hear his lips curl into a cocky smirk. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," he chuckles, and he tugs on the collar of his coat proudly. There's a bit of a kick in his step now, and he says, "But, uh...the fact that I don't give a shit who she's fucking around with tells me...I really don't want to be married to her at all. This whole thing with her, this entire fucked-up situation just gave me the balls to tell the fucking truth."

"Oh, no," Olivia's eyes closed, she inhaled and cringed, rubbing at her mouth with one hand. Here are those waves again, nausea and an unwillingness to hear the next few words from him. She sucks in another breath, her hand moving to her stomach, and before she can stop herself, she prods him. "And the truth would be?"

"I'm not in love with her," he says, and it sounds so effortlessly casual, as though he'd simply given her the time.

The wave washes over her and relief sets in; she was certain he was about to tell her something much worse. Her left eyebrow arcs and her right sinks, and one side of her mouth twists into an almost satisfied smile.

He chuckles, seeing the look on her face, and he nods at her as he moves closer to her. "I haven't been," he tells her. "That, uh, close encounter with Barton back there actually made it so fucking clear...my feelings for Kathy changed a long fucking time ago, and...I guess I didn't let myself fully notice until...until we went under." He blinks when her eyes shoot to his, he stops walking and reaches out to stop her, too, and when she halts, he says, "I couldn't ignore it anymore, not when it was...when we were…"

She sucks in a breath and something over his shoulder glints in the moonlight, and she stops him from speaking. "We're here," she says too quickly, eager to get away from the potentially dangerous conversation. She squints a bit as the brass numbers shimmer again, and she twists her wrist to grab his coat cuff. Her legs move fast, she pulls him to the curb and then up the steps, exhaling with a somber finality as she raises her other hand to knock on the door.

"Mister and Missus Garver," Elliot huffs, annoyed that Olivia stopped him from telling her something important for a second time. Or was it a third? "NYPD!"

Olivia pulls Elliot back and readies a hand on the handle of her gun, hearing the lock click and the chain drag, and she instinctively shoots an arm out and protectively braces Elliot.

He smiles at the gesture, but it's only because she beat him to the punch and he was about to do the same damned thing. He holds up his badge when the door creaks open. "Mister Garver?" he guesses, but when the light hits, he sees his mistake. "Oh, sorry, Ma'am. Are you…"

"Mister Garver lives on the other side of the city," the woman says through a yawn, "But yes, I am, unfortunately, still Missus Garver. Who did you say you were?"

"NYPD," Elliot repeats, "Detective Stabler. My partner, Detective Benson," he nods to Olivia who seems satisfied the woman in the fuzzy, pink slippers is not going to shoot them and trades the grip on her gun for one on her badge. "Does Donna Garver live here?"

The woman opens the door wider, her eyes suddenly fully open. "Yes," she says. "She's upstairs, asleep, Detective. It's after two in the morning."

"We know what time it is," Olivia says gently. "Are you sure she's home? Absolutely certain?"

"Detective," the woman exhales and runs her thin fingers down the front of her fluffy robe, "My daughter couldn't leave the house without my knowledge, as I am the person who would have to wheel her out of it," she gently nods to the side of the porch, indicating a ramp and railing.

Elliot hums as he knits his brow and he leans to one side. "Pardon me?"

"Detectives, what is this about?" the woman asks in exhaustion, she tightens the collar of her robe together in one hand, the other still resting on the door.

"Missus Garver," Olivia begins, "We found a girl...a few blocks from here, and she's...been hurt very badly by someone," she tries to speak respectfully, not wanting to upset the woman or give away any details of the case. "Your daughter's ID was in her wallet." She holds out a hand and shows the wallet, in its sealed bag, to the woman and she watches her face for any sign of connection.

"Oh, my! Yes, this...this is Donna's wallet, but..." The woman's eyes widen, her lips purse as she clears her throat again, and she speaks. "Detectives, I am so sorry someone was hurt. This is usually an incredibly safe neighborhood, but...Donna was involved in a carjacking six months ago, while visiting her father. Her purse, wallet and all, were in the car and the man...shot her before he drove away. Seven surgeries, physical therapy...she'll never walk again, and I assure you, the poor girl you found is not my daughter."

"We're sorry to have woken you up," Elliot says politely, and he nods at the woman, "And for what it's worth, we are very glad to hear that your daughter is safe and sound."

Missus Garver smiles at them but turns to Olivia before they leave. "You said this poor dear had my daughter's identification. Does this mean you'll be able to find the man who shot my Donna?"

Olivia looks at Elliot, something passes between them, and she offers the woman a genuinely warm grin. "We hope so, Ma'am." She waves and says, "Thank you for your help." She turns and heads down the steps, falling in step with Elliot as the door clicks and locks behind them. "This took a turn, huh?"

Elliot nods and hums, running a hand down his face. He pulls out his cell phone and dials a number, pulls on Olivia's jacket to get her to wait, and when someone answers, he starts talking. "Stabler, Special Victims, I need to verify a carjacking, about six months ago. Victim's name is Donna Garver." He squints as he looks up, the glare of a street lamp hitting his eyes, but his hand is still on Olivia's arm. He pulls her closer as he says, "Yeah, that would be the one. What's the follow-up on that? Uh-huh, thanks." He hangs up and slips his phone back into his pocket, then tugs Olivia along as he starts walking again. "Major Case confirms, Donna Garver was shot four times, almost died in transit to Saint Michael's." He blows a hard breath out through his open mouth. "City is paying for her chair and ramp, through the Victims' Fund until her attacker is caught."

"Which could be tonight," Olivia says, holding up the bagged wallet in her hand. "Oh, your little girlfriend is gonna love this. Do you know how many phone calls to the morgue we're gonna have to…"

"Could you please not refer to her as my girlfriend?" he whines with a shudder. "I'm making you do all the talking, just so I don't have to deal with her bullshit."

"Aw, her little crush on you doesn't flatter you?" she asks, but when she turns to him, there's no hint of humor on his face. "I'm kidding, El, I know…"

"Do you?" he asks, almost bitterly. "Do you really? Because I've been trying to fucking tell you and you keep shutting me down, so you really don't fucking know!" He lets her arm fall from his hand and then shoves his hands in his pockets, the cold getting to him. "You don't wanna hear it, so you won't even let me…"

"No," she says, stopping him yet again, "I'm not gonna let you play with my feelings because Kathy wounded your fucking ego! I'm not gonna listen to you recount details of the best game of house we've ever played because you're afraid to be single for five goddamn seconds, and I'm sure as hell not letting you wrap me around your fucking finger so you can rope me into bed, because you fucking know all you have to do is…"

"Christ, Liv," he cries, his voice breaking as he looks at her. "Is that really what you think I'm trying to fucking do?" The words come out softly, like beaten puppies afraid to be touched.

She stares back, her fury fading quickly as she sees his wounded eyes, the genuine heartache etching itself into his features. She sinks into resignation, shaking her head. "God, no, I just...now isn't the best time to think about anything…" she pauses and licks her lips, and she raises one hand to slowly cup and caress the left side of his face, something she used to do almost constantly when she was pretending to be his wife. "It's too soon, and I think maybe you're grasping at straws because you're…"

"Scared shitless," he nods as he moves closer to her, and it's his turn to do something he'd only ever done when he was playing the part of her husband. He turns his head just slightly and kisses her palm, closing his eyes and nuzzling her hand. "I am, but I'm not...I'm not in denial, and I'm not afraid to be single, I'm afraid…" he swivels his head again and looks into her eyes, trying with as much inner strength as he can mustur to will her to read his fucking mind. "I'm afraid of not taking the chance, of never feeling the way we felt…" he swallows the ball of emotion that formed back down and he presses his hand against hers, their fingertips moving and mirroring and teasing and touching, and as he stares at their playful hands he says, "It's only been a little over a week. We're home for a fucking week and the station gets blown up, Kathy cheats on me...has been, for...who knows how long, you break up with whats-his-fucking-name, and none of it fucking matters."

She's staring at their hands, too, but she's listening. She hears every word, and she watches his fingers make hers dance as she tries to ask, "What are you…"

"None of it matters, because my heart is still stuck playing house with you," he blinks once and he folds his fingers over the gaps between hers, and he clutches. "My mind is stuck on those fucking two weeks where we got to do shit we've wanted to do for the last three fucking years, and none of it was fucking pretend! Okay, you can't tell me it was because you swore to me, once, that you'd never fucking lie to me."

Part of her is convinced he really is only saying these things because he's an emotional basket case right now. He's been somebody's husband for his entire adult life and it's part of who he is, his identity, and he's afraid to lose that, so he's latching onto the next best thing. With a breath, she feels that an even bigger but less reliable part of her believes him. Her eyes turn up slightly and her lips form a wonky letter W as she tries to decide which part of herself she's gonna tell to fuck the fuck off.

As if his plea for the power to read minds has worked, he tugs on her hand a bit, holding it tighter, and says, "I'm not just saying this because I'm upset, or because I'm trying not to face how my fucking entire life has been ripped out from under me. I swear to you, I'm not. I've been trying to tell you this since we got back." He shrugs. "I tried to tell you...before we even left that house."

"You…" she squints. "The roses? When you told me you…"

"I wasn't acting," he whispers. "None of it was a fucking act, but when we nailed the son of a bitch, and Cragen told us we had to turn in all the tapes, I said...well, obviously I had to tell him we were just making it look legit," he licks his lips and he squeezes his eyes shut. "But you're right, this isn't the right time, I just…" as he opens his eyes he feels the burn in them, the tension behind his nose, and he exhales to ward off the tears. "I need you to keep me from falling apart, here, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing, other than just being fucking honest."

She nods and she gives his hand a squeeze. "Already told you, I'm here," she tells him. "Whatever that means, however...however you want me to…" and before she can tell him that she's happier than a pig in mud, his phone rings. "If that's Kathy right now, I swear to God…"

He laughs and he reaches around his waist to dig into his pocket with the opposite hand, refusing to let her go. He answers the call before he can look at the caller's number. "Sta...no, uh, Detective Stabler, to you, thanks." He shoots Olivia a hard glare as he juts his chin forward. As they start the walk back to their Ford, he looks down at their joined hands and smiles, but his words are anything but pleasant. "We already figured that out, so who the hell is she? If you don't know, then why are you calling...run her prints again. What? No, you can't have my login for...just...Christ, would you please just call Warner? I know she's on vacation, but you need her help, here. Not mine. Well, that's good to know, thank you. When you get a hit, call Detective Benson." He hangs up and he forces his eyes to move up Olivia's arm to meet her smugly grinning face. "Don't."

"Wasn't gonna," she shrugs innocently.

"Why aren't you flying off the handle?" he asks with a smirk that matches hers. "Novak flirts with me all the time, and you can't fucking stand it. This woman is practically crawling into my fucking pants and you think it's hysterical."

She chuckles and says, "Because I know you have absolutely no interest in Barton, whatsoever, and she's coming on way too strongly for me to take her seriously."

He licks his lips. "You, uh, you think I have a thing for Casey?"

Her grin disappears, she bites the inside of her cheek, and then she says, "With Casey, you...you flirt back."

"You think...you think I flirt with Novak?" He seems genuinely confused by this and narrows his eyes. "How the hell did anything I…"

"You just...maybe you don't even realize you're doing it," she interrupts, "But you do it. Or maybe that's just...you. I mean, there are times when I think you're flirting with me, whenever you…"

"Oh, I am," he says, shutting her up. "I will own that shit, I am fully aware that I flirt with you. It's intentional. And you do flirt back, so it works." He winks at her. "I don't have a thing for Novak, okay? If I...maybe you were right, maybe I wasn't aware because I wasn't intentionally flirting with her, I think I was just trying to…"

"Make me jealous," she says, her entire body seeming to come to that conclusion as she nods, slows her stride, and tugs on his hand. "Explains why you were always such a dick to…"

"Every man that wasn't me," he declares almost proudly, giving an affirmative dip of his chin. "Back to the station," he sighs, and he loosens his grip on her hand, instantly missing the feel of it in his. "After work, uh, I do need to go…" it wasn't home, not really. "To get some more clothes and stuff, see my kids."

She nods as she gets into the Ford, and then she lets the heaviness of the night fall on her shoulders. She shoves her hands into her pockets as she waits for Elliot to get into the car, and she gasps when she feels something at the bottom, round and cold. She knows exactly what it is, and her heart pounds a bit as she slips the ring onto her finger, contemplating keeping it on but knowing what it would cause. She looks over as she hears the driver-side door slam, and she lets the ring fall off of her finger, landing back into the cavern of her pocket. She chuckles as another wave hits her, but this time, it's a slow-rolling ebb of truth. Elliot's life has been turned upside down, and it's taken hers along for the ride.

**A/N: Will we get details of their two weeks undercover? Who was after what in the unit? And will Elliot go home to Kathy? **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_**That was never my object for someone to get killed. Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Valerie Nesbit," Elliot says with a sigh as he tacks an autopsy photo of their vic to the board. "Twenty years old, from Nebraska." He turns and folds his arms, his navy tee crinkling in the bends of his elbows. "Missing Persons got the report in June, five years ago. I read the statement from her father, he said she never made it home from a church meeting."

"Nebraska to New York," Olivia intones softly, staring at the grim photo. "Way we found her? We thinking trafficking?" She looks up and over her shoulder at her captain, who nods. "Lab ran the prints from the wallet, got a hit on a guy named Samuel Carter, Rap sheet a mile long, he could've been the original carjacker."

"Or he's our trafficker," Cragen says with a nod. "How do we find him?"

Elliot scratches a spot above his left ear with one finger. "Good question," he says. "We're tracing his steps from his last known hideout, got a couple of people doing some digging for us." He clears his throat and rolls a kink out of his neck. "My problem with getting nailed with this...it's intrastate, crossing jurisdictions. We need to get the feds in on it?" He turns up his eyes, more annoyed than inquisitive, at his captain and waits for an answer.

Cragen lets out a grunt, giving the temporary space a look around. It's a small room, boxes and bins stacked against every wall, a running printer in the corner and a small coffee pot shaking on the table beside it. There's one window, barred, one door leading to a very small interview room, and no office space at all. The cement walls make it feel more like a jail cell than a police station, and it makes him ridiculously uncomfortable. He runs a hand over his forehead and closes his eyes, the memory of the blast that took out his unit playing again like a rerun of a shitty TV show. He licks his lips and shakes his head. "No, the vic was found on our turf, and so far the only suspect we have is a New York native. We're not sure if this was trafficking, yet. For all we know, the girl ran away and got caught up in the web when she got off the bus."

Elliot nods, slightly relieved. The last thing he wants to do is get thrown back into a federal case. Unless, he thinks, it would be under similar conditions as his last one. A smile pulls at his lips as images of Olivia wearing next to nothing flash in his mind, memories of holding her hand and kissing her play in slow motion. He snaps himself out of the brief reverie when he hears Munch calling his name. "Huh?"

Munch repeats his question. "I asked you if either of you called the girl's parents."

"I did," Olivia says, raising a hand half way and curling her lips to the side. "I spoke to her mother. They're flying out here, tonight. It's strange, I told her what happened and she seemed...relieved."

"Finally knows where her daughter is," Elliot says, turning back to look at the photograph again. "Parent's worst nightmare." He cringes, praying that he'll never be on the receiving end of one of those phone calls.

Olivia watches him, worried, and she can tell by his slumping posture that there's a lot weighing on him, and he isn't taking the time to deal with any of it. She gets up and walks across the linoleum floor, grabbing a foam cup and pouring lukewarm coffee from the nearly empty pot. She tears open a small blue sweetener packet and shakes it into the cup, stirs in a bit of the powdered creamer they'd been given, and takes a single sip before heading over and handing the coffee to Elliot.

He smiles at her, a silent thanks, and he holds her gaze as he brings it to his lips. He swallows, licks his lips, and then looks away from her before he does something else, something that would raise questions he wouldn't have the answers to, and then he walks toward a short desk. "There's not enough room for us in here," he says, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Three of us could leave and it would still be cramped," Munch adds with a scoff. "I get that they gotta rifle through the rubble up there, but they couldn't offer us nicer digs than this? We're the most active unit in this place!"

Fin lets out a hearty laugh, hearing him as he makes his way into the room. "The One-Six doesn't play favorites, man. The other units here, they're all competitive as fuck." He looks up at Cragen and says, "I just came from TARU, Seaver told me the chief asked them to let us use their floor and ya know what they said?"

"No?" Olivia guesses, a flat expression on her face as she indicates their surroundings to prove her point.

"Besides that," Fin scoffs at her. "They said we needed to be knocked down a peg, and if we were as good as we think we are, we could do our jobs in a broom closet."

"Is that what this is?" Munch jokes, looking around. "Nah, broom closet would be bigger."

There's a much needed break in tension as the group chuckles and then Cragen clears his throat. "Like I said, this is only temporary. They're cleaning up, fixing the holes in the wall, and double-checking that nothing was stolen or damaged. We'll be back home in a couple of days."

"We still gotta take the stairs," Fin says with a shake of his head. "Elevator ain't gettin' fixed anytime soon." He throws a few stapled papers down onto one of the desks, getting back to business, grim though it is. "Cell records on the girl, Barton found her phone in her pocket." He taps the top page. "Same number popped up eight times in twenty minutes, around midnight."

Olivia picks up the pages and scans them, taking note of the highlighted number that collectively takes up half the page, and then says, "Someone was either really worried about her or…"

"Making sure she was dead," Elliot finishes, swallowing the last of his coffee. He tosses the empty cup into an overflowing trash can and asks, "But which is it?"

"Morales is still tracin' the number," Fin says. "Burner phone, bouncin' signals, but he'll get it."

"Wanna bet it comes back to Samuel Carter?" Olivia asks, shooting a playful glance over at her partner. She flicks the hair out of her eyes with her right index finger, and she sees something shift in Elliot's expression.

His brows rise slightly, his lips turn up in the corners just enough for it to be considered a smile. The blue of eyes deepens two whole shades and he feels his heart pound, the beating stronger and faster and louder than normal. He can tell his palms are sweating, and he absently runs them over the front of his jeans as he grapples with himself to calm the hell down. Her simple motion jolts him back to a moment that has burned itself into the very center of his memory. He blinks and it's gone, but he can still taste it on his lips and God, he wants to kiss her again.

"You okay?" she asks, wondering now if the look on his face means he's getting sick. Her head drops to one side and she steps forward a bit, realizing he's been lost in thought. "Where'd you go?"

"Back in time," he whispers an answer, blinking away the remnants of the memory of their first fake kiss, but it doesn't fucking feel fake. He rubs his eyes and exhales, and he looks at her. "I'm fine. I'm good." He nods.

Before anything else can be said, the only phone in the room rings. Four heads turn to Cragen, who rolls his eyes as he lifts the receiver off the cradle. "Special…" he's cut off by whoever is speaking to him and suddenly the room is silent.

Every detective and officer in the sardine can room stills, stares at him, waits.

"Are you sure?" Cragen asks, his pallor somehow more noticeable. He looks around and each worried face he meets sends chills down his back. "Okay, yeah, you can. Now, absolutely. Thanks." He hangs up and the noise startles almost everyone. The ring echoes in the quiet, and finally, he unclenches his jaw enough to speak. "Benson, Stabler," he turns with a pointed hand and gestures to the hallway.

Elliot and Olivia share a puzzled look, but they both move, following their commander out into the hall. "What did we do?" Olivia asks, and then she goes in for the kill. "Or, more likely, what did he do?"

"Hey!" Elliot snaps back with a smirk, slapping her in the shoulder.

"Quit it," Cragen barks, and then he lowers his voice. "Nothing. You two didn't do anything, so I need you to go somewhere. Anywhere but here." He makes sure he takes the time to look at each of the detectives that have become more like his kids in the eyes and he speaks slowly, deliberately. "You will not be treated like suspects." He blinks once. "Tucker and his pals are on his way down here. There were no usable prints, none that belonged to anyone who didn't have a reason to be in the squadroom. But," he pauses and sighs. "Whoever did this probably has traces of that shit all over them, they're gonna test everyone's hands, and clothes, and…"

"Do we have a motive?" Olivia interrupts. "What the hell were they after?"

"Not what," Cragen says, and he looks at her with a fear behind his eyes that he knows is there, that he can't possibly hide. "Who."

Elliot gasps, and then he shoots his head around to look sharply at his team through the door. "Someone was trying to…"

"Take one of you," Cragen completes. "It's why they wanted everyone locked in and knocked out."

Olivia gets it. "They needed us all completely incapable of fighting them off," she says, and she shakes her head in disbelief. "Who were they…"

"That's what Tucker wants to find out," Cragen stops her, and he throws a thumb and jerks his head. "Go."

Elliot squints and holds up both hands. "Why are the two of us off the hook, here? I mean, obviously, we wouldn't do anything like this, but how can…"

"You two left," Cragen interjects. "You were heading out on a call. Whoever rigged the place to blow would've known what time the bombs would go off, and would stall, he'd stay to...get what he wanted."

Understanding now, Olivia nods and she wraps a hand around Elliot's wrist. "Call us when you know." She gives Cragen a sad smile and pulls Elliot down the hall. They round the corner just before they hear Tucker moving in from the other end and they pick up the pace, running through the door and down the stairs. It happens the moment they reach the lower landing and Elliot's hand slaps over the pushbar.

His phone rings.

He looks at Olivia as if he's seeking her unneeded permission to answer it, and he lets go of the door to fish his phone out of his pocket. He scoffs as he sees the name screaming at him from the screen, and with a roll of his eyes, he answers. "What, Kathy?"

Olivia refuses to listen to anything he has to say to his wife, and she pushes the door open to make her escape. "Jesus," she almost jumps out of her skin. She takes a step back, takes a breath, and on a shaky sigh, she says, "You can hang up!" She throws out an arm and gives Elliot a severe roll of her head.

Elliot looks at his wife who's standing in front of them as he shoves the phone back into his pocket. "What the hell are you doing here?" He pushes Olivia through the door and onto the sidewalk and steps up to Kathy while running a hand down the front of his face. "You shouldn't even be back here, this is an exit, not an…"

"I was calling to ask you to meet me down here," Kathy says with an apologetic frown. "I had no intention of even going in, I didn't want to see…" she turns, her blonde ponytail whipping around, looking warily at Olivia.

Olivia nods with a sardonic smile as she waves awkwardly, then she steps aside, pulling her arms around herself. She realizes Cragen kicked them out without their coats and she's freezing. She hears them, though she wishes she didn't and she's trying like hell not to.

"Have you given any more thought to what I asked you?" Kathy reaches for Elliot's collar, but when he backs away, she flinches. Her hand drops and she shrugs. "It would be great, for all of us. We wouldn't feel so trapped, but we'd still be there for the kids, both of us!" Her eyes widen a bit and her smile lightens as she steps up onto her toes. "It'd be the best of both worlds! We keep the house, the insurance, and we get to keep…"

"If you're gonna say, _our dignity_, Kathy, just stop," he spits out, letting an open hand fly in dismissal of her words. "You lost any dignity you had by even thinking of this...bullshit!" He scrapes his teeth over his lip. "God, you...you just wanna save face, here! You can't tell your parents you can't make this marriage work, because then you'd have to admit they were right about us!"

Kathy balks because he is right, but she pulls her camel-colored coat tighter around her and speaks again. "I don't want to drag our kids through a messy div…"

"You're fucking around behind my back!" he yells. "You don't have a job, and the house is in my name, so how the fuck would our divorce be messy?" He chuckles and there's a bitterness in his laugh that surprises him. A breeze picks up and the chill hits him, his muscles twitch involuntarily in reaction, and he sees the flash of lust in Kathy's eyes. He chuckles again. It's one of his more negative attributes, his arrogance, but he takes advantage of the effect he still has on her and leans closer to her. He lowers his voice. "Yeah, you can look at me like that, all you want, but you should have thought about how badly you still fucking want me before you decided I wasn't enough for you." He lets out a single scoff. "Because the things that just ran through your mind? Never gonna happen again. Not with me." As an exclamation mark, he purposely flexes his arms and his pecs, making them pop through his shirt for a moment, and he shakes his head.

Kathy gulps and she bats her eyes at him as she grips one of his biceps. "Do you want me to beg? Elliot, we can think of a way to work through this."

Elliot rips his arm away from her and for a moment, he feels sorry for her. "You know, our life...what we worked so fucking hard to build, together...was everything to me."

"Yeah, until it wasn't," Kathy spits. She folds her arms and she lets her disdain shine as she says, "Three years ago, things changed. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong. Try it."

Elliot's nostrils flare as he breathes out and the low temperature hits him again, but this time he's more concerned about Olivia a few feet away feeling it twice as much. He laughs, then, because he sees that Kathy's right. "No, I won't deny letting someone else into my life, but despite how I fucking felt, I never turned my back on this marriage. I tried to make it work, and fucking Christ, I was willing to keep trying, so I fucking refuse to be turned into part of the reason it falls to shit! It's all on you."

"The kids," Kathy says, but her voice is soft, weak, and there are tears in her eyes. Although she knows she doesn't have a right to cry. "What about the kids?"

"Kids'll be fine," he declares, and he means it. "They got me," he tells her, and his eyes move slightly, focusing on his partner who he notices is shivering and bobbing up and down. He'd laugh if he wasn't so pissed off at the moment, and then he looks back at the source of his rage. "And they got Liv."

Kathy feels the tears falling and she bats them away with her fingertips as she nods and gives a contradictory laugh. "Of course, they do," she audibly exhales and moves faster than Elliot can process. Her lips are on his, her hands are clenching the fabric of his tee shirt, and she whimpers as he roughly grabs her, thinking her last-ditch effort is working.

He pushes her away with a grunt and shouts, "Damn it, Kathy, you can not expect me to do...what you're fucking asking me to do! That is not who I am! If it was, we never would have gotten married!" He doesn't realize his hand is on his lips until he's wiped away her salty kiss, and he settles into himself in acceptance of the fact that life as he has known it is over. "Go. Go home. Pack. Tell the kids, without me there. Own this, because you...you did this."

"I did," she agrees with a crack in her voice. "Will you at least…" she stops asking when she sees him shake his head, and she lets the tears fall slowly, freely, as she turns and walks away, leaving everything she's known at her back.

There's a long silence. Without the yelling and harsh words, he hears the wind whistle through the shedding trees, the leaves that are on the ground rustle and click, and somewhere down the street a glass bottle rolls into the curb with pings and clinks. He feels the cold fully now, his feverish anger fading into a temperate stasis, and that's when he moves. He rushes to Olivia, and without saying anything to break the peaceful soundlessness, he wraps her in his arms and covers as much of her as he can. "We gotta get outta the cold," he whispers to her, and he turns just a bit to walk straight.

She doesn't know what to say, so she stays quiet, trying to shove down the jealousy that coursed through every cell and vein when she watched Kathy kiss him. It's not her right, it's not her privilege to feel it, but she does. She trembles again, the warmth of his body radiating against hers is giving her another kind of chills.

"In here," he says, and he uses his hip to push open the door to a coffee house. He drags her into the first free booth he finds, still holding her. He looks down at her as they slide in, on the same side of the table, and he smiles. "Better?"

Nodding, she tries to smile back at him, but her stomach is still in knots and she has a million things to say to him that would be better left unsaid. All she gives him is, "Sorry."

He drops his head, resting it against hers, and he whispers, "Me, too," because he's sorry she had to see that horrid display and hear him yell at his wife the way he's always told her he never would. His lips trail across her forehead, but as much as he wants to kiss it, he doesn't. "The usual?" he asks, but he knows the answer.

She tries to sit herself up but his grip on her isn't letting up. Surrendering to it, she drops her head back against his chest and looks at the long counter. The glint of the chrome machines and bean grinders makes her wince and she closes her eyes. With each breath of mocha-scented air, she's taken back, remembering their morning routine. They'd wake early, go for a run, stop at a perfect little coffee shop. They drank their way through half the menu as they had deep conversations about anything and everything, using the excuse that the place was the perfect stakeout spot, but in reality, it gave them time with each other. By the end of their watch, they'd both found their drinks of choice, and unwittingly memorized them for each other.

The aromatic scent of espresso hits them and they both moan in appreciation. It makes her open her eyes and she looks up at him with a knowing smirk.

He shifts back slightly, nudges her to sit up, but he keeps one arm around her. "Now that you, uh, defrosted," he teases, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Oh, I didn't…" she sees him raise one eyebrow and she simpers. "All of it," she shrugs. "Believe me, I was trying...fucking desperately not to hear a damn thing."

He signals for a server and says, "I'm glad you did. I wouldn't be able to tell you about it without...falling apart." He looks at her fast. "Not because I'm upset, I told you, I'm not, but…" he struggles to find the right way to tell her what's been going through his mind, ask the question his tongue has been burning to ask. "I've never been in this situation before," he tells her, and he's using the voice he uses during his weekly confession. It's low, and deep, and sincere. "I don't know how to handle this, I can admit that, but I have these…" he rolls his left hand around in circles as his right hooks a bit deeper around her shoulder. "Urges. Things I wanna do, so fucking badly, but I know they're the wrong goddamn thing to do." He knits his brows together and laughs at himself. "Am I making any sense?"

"Perfect," she replies, because she knows exactly what he means. She has the same urges and she's having the same arguments with herself. She tilts her head forward a bit, her eyes dart to the left.

He turns, confused, but relaxes as he greets their waitress. "Hi," he smiles. "I need one regular honey nut latte, with an extra shot, easy on the milk, and a regular German chocolate latte with an extra shot, no whipped cream." He turns to look at Olivia and he's overwhelmed. He sees her as she was a week ago, snuggled close, and for a moment he forgets. All he sees as he smiles at her is the exact thing he no longer really has. His wife. He does what he's wanted to do since they sat down, and he presses a soft kiss to the middle of her forehead before turning back to their waitress. "And a slice of apple pie. Two forks."

"Coming right up," the young girl says brightly.

Olivia watches the girl as she walks behind the counter and can't help but think that she looks like their vic. Her cloudy head fills with thoughts about their case, their broken squad room, their unit, and the fact that Cragen ushered them away from it all without any hesitation. She furrows her brow, feeling Elliot kiss the top of her head again, and she looks at him. The question mark is clearly etched into her features.

He opens his mouth, hoping an explanation will come out all by itself, but he's saved from having to flub one by the ringing of Olivia's phone. He smirks. "We know it's not Kathy," he offers, and he grows a bigger pair of balls and plants a small kiss on her cheek.

She scrunches her face a bit as she answers her phone, staring at Elliot as though he's grown two extra heads. "Benson," she says, and she hopes the trepidation and confusion aren't clear in her voice. "What?"

Elliot straightens. He knows that sudden shift in the sound of her voice, and he sees her stiffen. "Cragen?"

She nods but raises a finger at him, telling him to shut up while she listens to him.

Elliot thanks the server as she drops their coffee and pie in front of him, and he sips his with his eyes trained on Olivia, discerning every minute movement she makes. "What is it?" he asks, licking his lips.

Without speaking, she turns her head and slowly holds her phone out to Elliot. Her eyes stare straight into his.

Confused, he takes it and holds it to his ear. "Cap, what the hell did you say to…" he stops, his eyes search Olivia's.

She knows now that Cragen told him the same thing he told her and she sees the fear and the worry in Elliot's eyes, but it's hidden behind fury and determination and something else that brings back those Atlantic Ocean waves of guilt and hope. She reaches for the latte she knows is hers, takes a long sip with closed eyes, and hears him hanging up the phone as she swallows. "Fuck," she hisses.

He pulls her to him again, both arms, and he mumbles something she doesn't understand.

"What?" she asks, elbowing him, he's got her pressed together too tightly and she can't exactly breath.

He only loosens his grip a bit, looks into her eyes again, and shakes his head. "I never would have let it happen."

Her head tilts, her eyes flicker a bit, and she believes him. "I know that," she says. "Go. Go on. He wants us back there."

He nods as he tosses a twenty dollar bill on the table, calculates something in his head, and flips a ten on top of it. Shoving his cash back in his pocket, he slides out of the booth, pulling her with him. He grabs both coffees and looks down at the pie with a puppy dog pout.

She picks up the pie, plate and all, and the two forks. She gets the attention of their waitress and swivels her hip, showing off her badge. Knowing it's enough, she leads him out of the coffeehouse, back into the cold, and across the street to their station.

He takes a sip of his hot coffee gratefully, then carefully holds her cup to her lips, making her drink to keep from shivering. They walk in through the front this time, breezing by the security desk, and as they climb the stairs, he sends up another prayer.

This time, he asks God to give him strength. Strength to be patient and strength to keep his volatile temper and possessiveness in check, because he's about to come face to face with someone who tried to hurt the only woman he's come to realize he's ever really loved. He hopes God can answer his prayer in under two minutes because he's just starting to figure out how to put his life back together, and going down for murder would really fucking suck.

"El," Olivia whispers, and she turns to him, stopping halfway up the steps.

He brings her coffee to her lips again, smirking at the satisfied look on her face as she sips, and he whispers back. "What?"

She holds his stare as she decides something, and she moves, kissing his forehead the way he did to her, and she sighs softly. "Don't do anything stupid."

**A/N: More details of their two weeks undercover! Who was trying to hurt Olivia? And what does Kathy say to the kids?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_**But now it's elevated cause once you put someone's kids in it, shit gets escalated- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Where is he?" Elliot's eyes are narrow and dark, his brows almost fuse together. His nostrils are flaring, his jaw is tighter than it's ever been. There's a vein in his forehead fighting to pop off and one on his neck that's visibly throbbing. "Where the fuck is he?"

Cragen's hesitant as he speaks; he has never seen Elliot this volatile before, so ready to snap. "Guys are looking for him," he says, and he readies himself for an explosion.

"Say again?" Elliot takes a step closer to his captain. "He's not here? Where the hell did he go? How could you just let him fucking leave?"

Olivia flinches; when he yells at perps in the box or bastards on the street, she loves it, it turns her on in ways no one could possibly understand. But this isn't the same. It's a different fury and it's directed at someone who isn't in the room, so it's landing on whoever is, and right now it's his boss. "El," she whispers with her eyes closed, afraid to look at him.

"No, Liv," he turns and he throws a hand in the air. "He was obviously here when Tucker and the rest of the rats were swabbing hands! So where the hell is he now?" He turns to Cragen. "You let him leave? Everyone was supposed to be locked in until you figured it the fuck…"

His tirade is cut short when Fin and Munch come into the room, holding a struggling man between them. Fin looks at Cragen. "He was in file storage, tryin' to get out through the vent."

Cragen takes a step forward but stops and gasps when he's cut off and beaten to the punch. His eyes widen when he sees Elliot's large and furious hands grab and twist at the man's collar, and for a moment he doesn't want to stop him. "Stabler," he finally calls, but it's a half-assed attempt.

"What the fuck were you gonna do with her?" Elliot snarls, staring into the eyes of a man he's worked with for years, someone who could've been a friend. He tugs harder, fists the collar of the shirt to tighten it around the asshole's neck. "Answer me."

The man, pale and shaking, opens his mouth but all that comes out is a series of wet gurgles. He's clawing at Elliot's hands, his face reddening on one side and purpling on the other.

"El, please!" Olivia's voice cries to him, something in it that she hopes Elliot senses, but that everyone else ignores.

Sneering, Elliot loosens his hold only enough to keep from killing the man in his grip. "Briscoe," he growls, and for a moment he stares at the disgraced detective. His left eye twitches and the only reason he isn't whaling on the son of a bitch is that Olivia is three feet away and there's a side of him he doesn't want her to see. "Answer me."

Ken Briscoe wheezes, his shirt still twisted too tightly to allow full use of his esophagus, and he wraps his hands around Elliot's wrists to keep him from pulling any more. "Let me go," he chokes out, and he blinks once, releasing tears from his eyes, "And I'll tell you everything."

"Tell me," Elliot's voice sounds throaty, like there's sandpaper lining the walls of his throat and rock salt on his tongue, "And I'll let you go." His lips twitch. "Maybe."

"Stabler, enough!" Cragen yells, then, moving to grab at Elliot. He thinks better about touching him, knowing that doing so would risk Elliot turning his rage on him. "Get him in the box. Someone put him up to this, he needs to tell us who. He's no good to us dead."

Elliot balls both hands into fists, he can hear the small, worried gasps as his actions lift Briscoe's feet off the ground. For a moment, he presses the fingers of one hand together, and he knows that with a little more pressure he could snap the asshole's neck. He hears Olivia call his name again, and the way she says it this time hits a part of him he isn't sure is fully conscious at this moment. He throws Briscoe back into Fin's arms, shaking his head. "You fucked with the wrong fucking people, dipshit!"

Briscoe, coughing and gasping for air, shakes, and shivers as Fin and Munch lead him into a very small, very stuffy interview room.

Elliot moves, then, ignoring Cragen's pelting reprimands. He reaches for Olivia, pulling at the bottom of his shirt as he rushes into her, and he hugs her tightly as he whispers an apology over and over.

She nods, unwilling to speak, and pushes herself away from him a bit, trying to save their dignity and their jobs. "I told you not to do anything…"

"That wasn't stupid," he counters fast, a smirk on his face. He runs a hand down his face, stopping it at his chin, and in the stillness, he feels every muscle in his body twitching. His legs are shaking and there are tremors in his hands. He moves to the side of the room and falls into a chair and closes his eyes. "Damn it," he seethes.

Cragen steps over to Olivia, his arms crossed, his patent leather shoes clicking as they hit the tile. "Get him a cup of coffee," he says to her, "And for the love of God, don't let him come into that room." He nods at her and then moves, following the path made by Munch, Fin, and the cop who betrayed his unit.

Olivia bites her lip as she follows her captain with her eyes until he disappears behind a door. She turns, then, and moves over to the printer cart. Carefully, she moves a pile of documents onto an empty table and pours what's left of the mediocre coffee into a foam cup. She fixes in the way he likes it, stirring as she focuses on a water stain on the wall. The last two days replay in her mind as she swirls the creamer into the coffee, and she wonders if it all stems from her telling Elliot about Kathy. She was the catalyst, she believes, and everything else was her payback from karma. With a sigh, she turns and heads for Elliot, and when she reaches him, she holds out the cup. "Calm down."

"He could have…" he blinks and turns, takes the cup and drinks half of it in one immediate sip, and then he looks up at her. "I wouldn't have been able to stop him, if…"

"Nothing happened," she interrupts, not wanting to think about it. "And I know you, the second the bombs went off, you would have pulled me under your desk. We would have ducked and covered, together, so he wouldn't have been able to get to me. El, even if we ended up passed out, he wouldn't have gotten you off of me, or figured out how to get me off of you." She folds her arms and shrugged. "You know I'm right. It's...it's just...what we do."

He takes another sip of his coffee and nods and then gives the chair next to him a swift kick. He watches her sit and he turns, his hand finding a home on her upper thigh. "I'm sorry," he says, and it's the twelfth time he's apologized for his animalistic behavior with Briscoe. He squeezes, twice, and he shakes his head. "I told you, I'm...I'm not okay. I'm not okay with anything going on in my life right now. I'm not okay with Kathy cheating on me, and then asking me to live with her while she keeps fucking doing it." He shrugs. "I'm obviously not okay with what happened, here, too! Ya know, I wouldn't have reacted like that if Cragen told me that son of a bitch was after someone else. Anyone else." He licks his lips and he hands her the foam cup, offering her what's left of the coffee.

She takes it with a small smile and sips, finishing it, and as she drops the empty cup to their tiny table, she asks, "Why?"

"You know why," he retorts, and he can see in her eyes, she does know. But it needs to be left vague, kindly unspoken. "You remember...our first night under?" He feels his lips turn up, the smile forming at the memory. "We were getting in bed, and you knew he was watching, you saw him through the bedroom window. He had a…"

"Telescope," she nods, and she chuckles. "You said if he wants the see the moon, he will, and then you stood right in front of the window and dropped trou." She rolls her eyes, recalling the little dance he did. "Guy probably thought you were stripping for me."

"Well, I was," he laughs as he raises one shoulder and squeezes her thigh again. "But then we realized he was...really watching." He pulls his metal chair closer to hers. He leans in, drops his gaze, and he whispers, "Do you remember what I said to you?"

One of her eyebrows arcs and she takes a deep breath. "Of course I do," she tells him.

"I meant it," he affirms with a single nod. "It wasn't just about that asshole, either, I meant always. Forever. I am never gonna let anyone hurt you, and if they try…" he blinks, and when he opens his eyes again he makes damn certain he conveys every ounce of honesty and truth he can. He's fucking serious, and she needs to know he is. She needs to feel it. "I will kill them."

She feels her heart stop at his words, and she knows he's deadly serious. "Don't...not this time," she whispers. "I would kill for you, too, I...I have, but please, let them handle things with Briscoe."

"If he would've tried," he says to her, his hand now running up and down her thigh, "I would have killed him." He swallows and he stops moving his hand. He needs to tell her; he's been trying to tell her for days, but he loses the moment, or he can't find the words. "That…" he exhales. "That wasn't the only thing…" he laughs at how nervous he is, at how weak he has become when only moments ago he was stronger than The Hulk and ready to prove it. "Shit, I meant everything I said to you during that op. Every fucking thing."

Olivia tilts her head, narrows her eyes, shakes slightly. "Everything?"

"I know you thought I was just saying shit because we had to play a part, or for the sake of anyone listening, but it was never just a gig. Not this time. It was all...it was real to me, and I guess, being thrust into that situation with you...I took the opportunity to just, ya know, lose the filter." He moves his other hand and brushes her hair behind her ear, and he lets himself smile. "Everything I said…" he gives her that earnest look again and his smile becomes a smirk. "Everything I did, it was all me. Not a single fucking moment was pretending."

She feels his hand moving again, and it's causing a reaction she can't handle right now, stirring feelings and temptations in her that should not come to pass. She slams a hand on top of his, stopping it from inching higher on her leg, and she looks back at him with the same intensity he's giving her. "I know," she whispers. "I knew, then, and…"

"You, too," he nods once and he swears he can hear her heart pounding from where he sits. "I know. What...what does that mean?" He chuckles. "I mean, I know what it means, okay? Fuck, I know, but...coming home, coming back and having it all just...go away," he pauses and licks his lips. "I'm clearly not okay with that, either."

There was a waver in his voice, she hears it resonate, she sees the pain in his eyes and the confusion scrawled over his face. Her head turns to the hook on the wall and her eyes zoom in on her jacket, specifically the pocket. Her lungs burn and her stomach churns as she thinks of what's inside of it. The ring, the one he gave to her, the one that made him his wife for two weeks. Her eyes close and her heart aches, because as much as she wants to tell him she'd give anything to go back, to live in that fantasy, she can't. "You should…" she swallows and looks back toward him. "You should call Kathy."

"Aw, man, fuck Kathy!" he barks, backing up a bit. "I already told you, I am not…"

"Hey!" she reprimands, her voice getting his full attention. "I meant that you should call her and see if she told the kids! You're supposed to go pack up more of your stuff tonight, and I don't want them to think you're the one leaving them if…"

"Jesus," he exhales, "Right. Sorry, I…" he shakes his head and shoves his hand into his pocket to find his phone. He types in his passcode, dials, and waits. The eagerness with which Kathy answers the phone makes him cringe. "Don't start," he says, "I'm only calling to see what you...no, ya know what? Put Maureen on the phone. Because I don't want to talk to you." He rolls his eyes and grimaces, but then he brightens. "Hey, sweetheart!" He wipes his forehead. "Oh, honey, I know. I am, I promise. Not tonight, kiddo, I don't think it's...um, with Liv, yeah." He laughs at something his daughter says and he eyes Olivia coyly. "She certainly does, honey. What did your mother tell you? Do you know what's going on?"

Olivia leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, studying the slight shifts in his features. She can tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling by the way he moves, by the way he bites his lip. It's something she had been instantly capable of, a skill that has been perfected, but a talent she only possesses when it comes to him. She smiles at the look in his eyes; she loves the way he loves his kids.

He says goodbye, he tells his daughter he loves her, and tells her to tell the other kids he loves them, too. He hangs up and then looks at Olivia and spits out a hard, "Bitch."

"Well, I can be when I have to be," she gives him, knowing he means Kathy but trying to lighten the mood. She watches him chuckle lightly and then asks, "What did she tell them?"

"The truth," he says, and he seems almost surprised, "For the most part. Then she told them we were trying to work it out, and that I'd be home soon." He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. "Maureen said they're all confused, and Kathleen is mad at her, but they...God, she told me they're upset. She told me that you...you always come in clutch for all of us, she thanked you for that...and then asked me if I really was coming home soon." He blinks and takes a breath. "She lied to my kids." He slams an open palm on the table, his anger winning again. "It's one thing to try to get under my skin, but I told her that it's over! It's fucking over! She has no right to lie to my kids, give them the same fucking false hope that she's holding onto! Damn it, why did she lie like that to my kids?"

Olivia eyes him carefully, taking in the way his muscles twitch again, as if they're trying to bust free from the blue tee shirt he's wearing. Her eyes close. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears a voice that tells her Kathy didn't lie at all, that he will work things out and put his family back together. A sniffle to her left catches her attention and she whips her head toward him. He's struggling to keep from crying, and she moves fast, resting a hand on his shoulder and she looks down at him. "Well, then, we...we just need to tell them the truth."

He looks up at her and nods quickly, and he takes a deep breath. "Gotta tell ourselves the truth, too, don't we?"

Her eyes narrow as she peers down into his. Before she can ask what he's talking about, the phone rings, bringing them back into their case and, for the moment, out of the path of the danger of confronting the truth.

**A/N: What happens when they get back to Olivia's? Does he finally ask her what he's been trying to ask? Or does he realize it was only a side-effect of his emotional rollercoaster ride? And why was Briscoe after Liv?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_**Step by step, heart to heart, left right left… - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Maybe it was the two weeks she'd spent living in a gorgeous three-story house, but as she sits on the small couch in her tiny living room and looks into the open kitchen space, she feels almost claustrophobic. She scoffs. It isn't her apartment walls that are closing in on her, it's her life in general. She bites her lip as she shifts in her seat, pulling her legs under her and reaching forward to grab an egg roll out of the paper take-out bag on the coffee table.

Something stops her before it passes over her lips; she tilts her head and bites the inside of her cheek, glancing again at the kitchen. Briefly, she wonders why she's paying an extra two-hundred dollars a month for the place just so she can have a kitchen she never uses. Shaking her head in mild self-pity, she bites into the fried roll and checks the clock. He'd told her he would be at her place by ten, it's almost eleven-thirty, so she resigns herself to eat cold Chinese alone while he has make-up sex with his wife. At least, that's what she assumes he's doing.

As she swallows, she leans her head back against the couch, her thoughts drift back to the townhouse. Her first night there, she couldn't fathom why anyone would need so many bedrooms, or more than one bathroom. She didn't see the purpose of having two ovens and three sinks in the kitchen. Elliot had laughed at her, making some crack about her not getting it because she was single and lived alone. But by the end of their third night in the place, they'd imagined having a kid in each bedroom, a houseful of children who'd never need to fight for the bathroom, and dinner parties that would be so simply to plan because of all the extra space and huge functional kitchen.

She closes her eyes and bites violently into her egg roll, wishing the now painful memory away, but the click and jingle of her doorknob snaps her back to the present, back to her reality. She sits up quickly and, even though she's only half-sure she'll need it, rests her hand on the handle of her gun, which is still at her hip despite wearing a pair of thin, cotton sweatpants.

"Sorry I'm late," he offers, his voice low, as if the words weighed too much to say any louder.

She's on her feet in seconds, dropping the egg roll onto the coffee table, and she moves toward him quickly. "What the hell happened to you?" She squints and gingerly runs her fingertips over a red and purple circle under his eye. She notices he also has a split lip, the blood dried but obvious. She eyes him for any other injuries, and she winces as she grabs his hand from where it hangs, on his coat over the hook. She holds his hand in hers as if it's made of glass, gently turning it over to hit the light. His bruising knuckles glare back at her. "What did you do?" she whispers, and she's afraid of the answer.

He shrugs, and before he speaks, he falls into her, his head drops to hers and he shakes it in defeat and dejection. "I told you…" he shrugs again, as if it alone explains away his appearance. "After I talked to my kids, and to Kathy...something she said was so…" he loses the word on a cough and he breathes before telling her the rest. "I went back to the station, I didn't plan on getting into a fight, I promise, but he was there, and his uncle…" he grits his teeth as he lifts his head away from hers. "Fucking Lenny, man, he used his pull with the department to get Ken released, and he was actually...they were just letting him go."

She grazes the side of his hand with her thumb. "Lenny bailed out his nephew, you had to know that he was gonna…"

"No, you don't fucking get it," he interrupts, and he peers down at his hand, marvelling how perfectly it feels in hers, how perfectly they fit together. He smiles slightly and says, "Someone paid Ken to do what he did, Lenny knew it, and he throws down some kind of deal...a name for a slap on the wrist. They were just…" he exhales and he licks his lips, wincing at the tang of the blood and the sting of his cut. "He didn't deserve to just walk away, so I followed them out...this...this happened in the parking lot, but trust me, he looks a lot worse than I do." He smirks. "He's not taking the deal. He still gave up the name, but, uh, I convinced him...to own what he did. Lenny agreed with me."

"Sure he did," Olivia says, and she raises her other hand to his purpling cheek again. "You need ice," she says, and she moves to head for the kitchen but he clasps her hand and refuses to let her move anymore than a few steps. She looks at him, puzzled.

"Later," he says, and he walks toward the couch, tugging her with him. "I know you waited, so…" he points with an open palm to the bag of food. "We should eat." He sits and digs through the bag for his carton of pepper steak, but he can feel her eyes on him. "What?" he sighs, leaning back against the sofa. He cracks his chopsticks apart with one hand and maneuvers them into position expertly. He eyes her as he opens the carton and stabs at his food.

She grabs her egg roll, swiping away the bits of it that have fallen onto the table, and she takes a bite. "Now you're gonna tell me the truth," she says with a mouthful. As soon as she swallows, she asks, "Who threw the first punch?"

He chuckles. "He did, believe it or not. I just wanted to ask Lenny what the fuck he was pulling, but Ken came at me. It got heated, I beat the hell out of him, and Lenny figured instead of adding assaulting an officer to the charges, he'd let the bastard take his chances with the ones he was already facing."

"Mmhmm," she mumbles, scooting closer to him. She pulls another carton of food out of the bag, but instead of getting her own chopsticks, she takes his and grins victoriously at him. She laughs when he glares at her, but does a little dance when he simply gets himself a new pair. She jabs at a piece of her broccoli and asks another question. "So, uh, did you...did you find out who…"

"No," he says fast, Shoving a bite of his food into his mouth. He chews for a moment, and then he tells her, "Cragen and two uniforms came out, I guess we were loud enough to get their attention. They pulled me off of him and escorted him back into the house, Cragen told me to get the hell outta there, so I did." He waits, catches another piece of his steak between his sticks, and then says, "We'll find out tomorrow, though."

"Wonderful," she bites with a sigh, and she shoves a piece of chicken into her mouth. They eat in silence for a minute, and then she looks at him, her eyes landing on the grotesque fist-shaped bruise on his cheek. "Did you, uh...did you tell the kids...what you had to tell them?"

"Well, the only one awake was Maureen, but I told her everything," he says, and he shoves his chopsticks into Olivia's carton of chicken and broccoli, ignoring the playfully disdainful look she's giving him. He eats the stole food and says, "Kathy was right there, and she couldn't deny any of it, so...it wasn't bad."

She seeks vengeance by digging around in his carton for a large, green pepper, and she chortles when she grabs one between her chopsticks. She makes an exaggeratedly satisfied face, rolling her eyes and moaning, but when she looks at him again, his gaze is smokey and she realizes what's just happened. She clears her throat and elbows him. "So what are you gonna do?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, and he tries like fuck to move into a spot on the couch where his suddenly painful erection isn't obvious and his body doesn't touch hers in any way.

"You can't stay on my couch for the rest of your life," she teases with a roll of her head. She licks her teeth and sets the carton of food down on the table.

He tilts his head and slides a pepper off of his chopsticks into his mouth. "I know that," he says firmly. "Eventually, I'll move into the bed." He winks at her, and then he makes a very bold and potentially very stupid decision. He plops his food beside hers, the chopsticks sticking up in the pile of beef and vegetables, and he looks into her eyes. "Maybe I'll just skip the couch, though, huh?"

Her eyes pop, her lips press into each other and she isn't sure if she wants to hit him or kiss him. He's been hit enough, tonight, she thinks, but kissing him would lead to trouble. "Are you…"

"We spent two weeks sharing the bed," he interrupts her, wearing an expression that seems to ask her what the bog deal is, "And the week we've been home, I spent every night on my own fucking couch, so I would actually prefer the bed." He sees the question in her eyes and he laughs. "Just another reason she cheated on me, I guess," he gives an over-the-top shrug.

She chuckles at him, but then she sighs and bites her lip, contemplating letting him sleep with her, wondering what his insistence means and weighing how willing she is to be his rebound if that's what he's after. "Talk to me," she whispers, and she moves off the couch before he can stop her.

"Where are you…" he turns toward her and spots her standing in front of her freezer. "You ask me to talk to you and then you walk away? Nice!"

She laughs as she pulls something out of the icebox, and she closes it before turning to him. She wiggles a bag of frozen french fries at him and moves back in his direction. "I don't have any ice."

"What a shocker," he scoffs, and he takes the bag from her with an amused smile. "I'm surprised you even have these," he tosses the bag up and catches it, and then pretends to look for an expiration date. "What, are these from 1973?"

"Asshole," she spits, slapping him playfully in the shoulder before she sits beside him again, and she seethes when he presses the ice cold bag to his face and winces. "Jesus," she hisses.

He raises one eyebrow at her. "Finding your faith?" he jokes.

She looks down quickly, unable to tell him she already has, and that it all lies with him. She rubs a hand through her hair and sighs. "Okay, talk. How are you feeling about...all of this shit with Kathy?"

He makes a face, his lips turn down and his head shakes slightly, and he says, "I'm not really upset, I keep telling you that, I just…" he exhales. "I don't know how to be an adult, is what it comes down to, not a single one. I was barely eighteen when I got married, I never really processed what that meant, and there I things I never figured out how to do because I assumed Kathy would always be there to do them." He held up hand and waved it. "I don't mean shit like cooking and laundry, I can handle that, I mean...raising four kids by myself, suffering through parent-teacher conferences alone, balancing the checkbook three days before I actually get paid, food shopping on a budget that has no room for beer and potato chips." He makes a pained noise as he moves the bag of fries. "I don't know how...not to be married," he looks at her and he completely loses his breath. He smiles, his heart thumps and his stomach lurches, and he moves closer. "But the worst part about all of this, is that I realized it's not Kathy I can't imagine living without."

"How hard did Briscoe hit you?" she jokes, trying to give him a way to take his foot out of his mouth.

"I'm not joking," he tells her, and there's a softness in his voice he usually only reserves for whispered goodnights to his kids. "I've been trying to find a way to ask you this without seeming like the world's biggest asshole, but…" he lets the french fries drop into his lap, the cold becoming too much for his hand but not enough to numb his cheek. He moves his icy fingers to Olivia's wrist, and he stabilizes her when she jumps at his frigid touch. "I think...it feels like we've been dating for the three years, doesn't it? I fucking feel like that, so...I'm pretty sure the reason I didn't notice Kathy cheating on me was because...emotionally, anyway, I was doing the same fucking thing, and I need to know…"

She closes her eyes and she hears the question but part of her brain refuses to believe he actually has asked it. Her hand twitches and she feels his fingers wrapped around her wrists, it's ironic that the emotional hold he's always had on her is manifesting as a pair of handcuffs. "You need to sleep this off," she challenges, dismissing his words. "We had a rough couple of days, so maybe we both just...we need to get some sleep."

He holds her tighter as she moves, and he pulls her closer when he's sure she won't fight him on it. "I'm thinking clearly, okay? I'm not trying to get you into bed to prove I can, I'm not just trying to get even with Kathy, and I'm not acting out of any kind of emotional imbalance or suppressed fear of being alone, so don't try to 'Huang' me, okay? It was an honest question and I need an honest answer."

"I can't answer you," she whispers, yanking her hands out of his, and for the first time in her entire life she wishes she listened to her mother and took that job on Wall Street because she wouldn't be in this situation. She moves as far away from him as she can get, but in her small apartment, it's not as far as necessary. She folds her arms and stares out of her window, the grime of the city looking more like a beautiful escape from the couch. She feels his hands on her shoulders and she closes her eyes, not trusting herself to stay calm, not trusting anything at all at the moment.

"Please," he whispers, and he slides his left hand down her left arm, along her skin, taking hold of wrist again, pulling her hand free and taking in his, and he brushes his lips across the back of her head. "I need an answer."

She blinks, her heart growing wings as the rest of her body wants to jump out the window. "You don't know what you're…"

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he interrupts. "I'm not on the rebound, if that's what you're worried about," he turns her around and holds her shoulders, and he leans closer and looks into her eyes. "Nothing in my life made as much sense as those two fucking weeks, I can't explain it, and I don't want to waste any time trying to, so just answer my fucking question."

The blues in his eyes shift in color the longer she stares at him. It's almost like looking at a galaxy, stars and planets in orbit around a deep blue sun. She licks her lips and tries to remember what breathing feels like because her lungs aren't working and there's a burning in her chest that will kill her if she doesn't figure it out. She gasps when his left hand moves to the side of her face and she sees him smile; it's the smile she only ever saw for the two weeks they spent trapped in a live action version of The Sims, one she had never seen before and hasn't seen since. "What was the, uh…" she blinks. Words are hard.

He chuckles, and he already knows her answer, he's only asking out of necessity and propriety, and he wipes the thin skin under her left eye with the pad of his thumb. "I asked you…" he inhales sharply and suddenly the words feel like daggers and he's afraid to throw them at her. "Um, I asked you if...if it was real for you. If you felt...still feel anything for me." He drags the hand that sits on her shoulder down her arm and wraps his fingers around hers. "Say no, tell me it was all an act, just a job, and I'll gladly park my ass on your couch and forget this ever happened. But say yes, Liv, and then we admit that for three fucking years...lunches, dinners, coffee, nights at work that may or may not have ended with us huddled together on a lumpy ass bed in the cribs, conversations in the car that held more weight than anything I've ever fucking talked about with Kathy...we admit what that was, what that...is."

Words are still hard. She blinks twice, her mouth opens and closes, and for a moment she thinks she's speaking. Her face when she realizes she isn't must be amusing because he laughs and tells her how cute she is, and it only makes it harder to find the strength to tell him anything. "You know," she offers softly, "Don't you? You already know."

"But I need to hear you say it," he says to her, and he thumbs over her knuckles again. "Because for the past two days, I have felt...hollow. My life fucking fell apart, but I don't even notice when I'm with you. When I'm not with you, I feel empty, and that has to fucking mean something, doesn't it?"

She turns her back to him, choosing instead to look back out the window, because the street below can't react to what she's about to say. She watches as the wind picks up a few bits of trash and swirls them around, blowing them down the street. The street lamp they land beneath flickers and she takes it as a sign. "You mean more to me than anyone ever has," she speaks, but it's a voice that isn't hers. It's low and tremulous, uncertain, and weak. "And I know what you're asking, what you need to hear, but I…"

"Tell me," he breathes, right into her ear, and he can feel her shiver against him. He drops closer, his nose brushes against her cheek, he nuzzled her as he wraps his arms around her and presses against her, and he closes his eyes, praying as he whispers again, "Tell me you love me."

The wind kicks up again; it rattles the window and shakes the trees, strewing more litter across the pavement. "I love you," she says, and she hopes the loud rush of wind has drowned her out, saving her sanity and her job. She feels his lips hit the back of her head and she knows he's heard her. Closing her eyes, she struggles to breathe again. Two days ago she was a thousand percent sure that telling him his wife was having an affair would be the death of him, but now here she is causing more of a rift in his universe at his own insistence.

He stops shaking long enough to convince himself she's said it, and he kisses the back of her head again. "I love you, too," he tells her, and for the first time all night, he sounds sure and definitive, no wavering or hesitation in his voice at all. He means it with everything he has.

"What aren't you telling me?" her whispered question forces his arms tighter around her, earns another kiss from his lips to her head. "I know you," she tells him, answering his unasked question: _How did you know? _"What did she say to you?"

He drops his chin to the crown of her head and he folds his hands together as they rest on her stomach. He's locking her in, keeping her safe, keeping her with him. "Promise you won't hit me," it's a demand, not a request.

She chuckles. "I promise nothing," she teases, craning her neck back to look at him. She's stunned when he bends his head forward and kisses the end of her nose, but she doesn't move. "What is it?"

"She told me..." he looks around, sighs, and then says, "She sees the way I look at you, and she knows...just from the way I talk about you, that...there's more here than friendship." He bites his lip and says. "We've never just been partners."

"Okay, yeah, I'm aware," she straightens up, looks over her shoulder at him, and starts again with, "What does that have to do with anything?" She shifts and turns herself around in his arms. "You got something to say to me, say it, don't…"

"She knows," he spits out. "She's fucking known for years, and she knew I was fighting this thing with you because I promised her, and she still…" he chuckles but it's an angry laugh. "She still looked me dead in the eyes and told me she could look past it if we just gave her fucking asinine idea of an open marriage a shot. She would rather have me be head over heels in love with you, but not when I…" he looks into her eyes and loses his nerve. "Forget it. I already dealt with this. Let's just...go to bed."

"What did you say?" She asks the question as she follows his lead, heading into her bedroom without debate. Loving someone and being in love with them are two vastly different things, and she can't willingly believe he means what he's just said. "You said that you're..." she pauses. "Okay, you don't think you're jumping the gun, here?"

Without any hesitation, as if he's done it every night for years, he moves to the bed and throws down the covers. He turns to her as he unbuckles his belt and he smiles at her. "I'm not going back to her, or back to that house," he drops his pants and doesn't pretend to ignore the way her eyes drop and her mouth curls into a smirk. It gives him a surge of courage and boosts his ego, and he peels off his shirt. Standing before her in nothing but a pair of light blue briefs, he smirks right back. "I belong right here," he says, and he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons her to him, and when he's sure she's walking into his waiting arms, he exhales. "With you."

She stands still, her body between his knees, and she stares down at him as he slowly runs his hands under her shirt, up her bare back. Her breath hitches, her hands begin to tremble, and she knows exactly what he's doing. She remembers this; it haunts her dreams. It's how he baited the bastard they were after, but two weeks ago she was wearing a lot less and he was touching a lot more. "We aren't undercover anymore," she tells him, as if it matters, as if he cares.

"No shit," he chuckles. Without warning, he grabs and pulls, tossing her over him and into the bed. He hears her laugh, the greatest sound in the world, and he crawls up to her and whips the covers over them. "Goodnight," he whispers, and he kisses her cheek and cuddles close to her, just like he did every night for two weeks.

She can't help feeling like it's right; she feels home, and as she closes her eyes she wonders just what the hell is going on. She realizes, when his arms tighten around her and his lips fall to her neck, that she doesn't fucking care. Well, at least for tonight.

**A/N: A new case in the morning brings an unexpected challenge, and we find out who Briscoe was working for and why! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**_** We all fall down like toy soldiers**_… _**\- Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

When his phone rings, he jerks in his sleep and grimaces with closed eyes. He's incredibly comfortable, his body wrapped around the gorgeous woman in the bed with him, and he whines like his six-year-old son as he shoots out one hand and tries to reach his cell without letting go of her. With a strained grunt, he grabs it and he angrily answers the call with a severe-sounding, "Stabler." He gives nothing but hummed responses and then finally a, "No, I'll call her. Thanks." He hands up, drops his arm to the mattress with his cell phone still loosely clutched in his hand, and he lets out another complaining noise.

"What is it?" she asks softly, and she tries to decide if she's awake or still dreaming. His arm is underneath her body, his legs are coiled around her and she can feel his morning wood pressing into her back. She's dreamt of this so often that she's convinced herself she's still asleep. Until she moves.

"Got time," he mumbles, his lips move against the back of her head. "I'm calling you and driving over to your place from Queens, so...we got time." He nuzzles closer to her. "So fucking comfortable." He tightens his body around hers.

She can't argue. It's the most comfortable she's been since...since two weeks ago, really, but before that, it's been years. She sighs and sinks into the home she's made in his arms. A small smile plays at her lips because it's the first time in a while she's had a decent night's sleep and she knows the reason is him. "We should really…" she pauses. He's moved, shifted a bit, and now that glorious erection is settled right against her ass. Her eyes close again, her smile becomes a crooked grin that curls beneath her teeth. "You're already up, aren't you?" she teases.

With a low chuckle, he proves her point by thrusting his hips once and running his hand along her arm. "Haven't slept so soundly in…"

"A couple weeks?" she guesses, and again she feels him nod his head against the back of hers. She rolls over slightly, causing him to moan in protest. "Me either." Her wide eyes blink once and then suddenly she's staring into his. "What was that phone call about?" she asks, changing the subject to work to keep herself from kissing him.

He arches his back and stifles a yawn as he stretches and rubs his eyes. "Body dump on Ninety-Fifth Street," he grumbles, and he suppresses another yawn. "And Madison."

"Shit," she huffs, and she sits up in the bed and covers her mouth as she yawns, too. She rolls her neck and shoots her arms out at odd angles, watching intently as Elliot slips himself out of the bed. The way she reacts to him is almost involuntary; heat rises as her cheeks flush and she licks her lips because she hasn't eaten breakfast yet, and he looks so fucking delicious in those simple blue briefs. She clears her throat and averts her gaze just in time for him to turn around, and she says, "You gonna shower?"

"After you," he shrugs. "Or, uh, we can conserve water, save time…" he wags his eyebrows at her, giving her the impression he's only joking, but if she even hints at the possibility that they could shower together, he's holding her to it. He's met with a dark look he's only seen a handful of times before and he suddenly regrets getting out of the bed. "I was…" he coughs once. "I was kidding." He tilts his head to the side. "Go on."

She stands and tugs down the hem of her blank tank, and as she passes him on her way to the bathroom, she grins. "I felt horribly overdressed all night," she lifts one brow and chuckles. "So either you need to wear some actual pants to bed, or…"

"Or you can wear what you wore when we were…" his breath catches, the image of her wearing nothing but a matching set of red silk underwear flashing on the Imax of his mind. He smirks. "Married." He winks at her and slaps her lightly on the ass, ushering her into the bathroom. When she disappears behind the door, he exhales and rubs his eyes again. He's more confused now than he was three days ago, but he's never thought more clearly in his entire life. The paradox is killing him and he hates himself for the battle raging between his head and his heart; he already knows who's gonna win.

After Olivia's shower, he takes a fast one and throws on a pair of jeans and a button-down, steps into his shoes, and makes sure they each have their badge, gun, phone. and keys before helping her on with her coat and leading her out the door. Once they get into the car, Olivia turns to him, and before she speaks, she studies him. His eyes are clearer than they have been recently, his lips are stuck in a relaxed smile, he isn't clenching his jaw or balling up his fists, and she notices that he's shaved and is wearing the aftershave she loves so much. "You woke up happy," she notes. It's not what she intended to say at all, but it's what comes out.

He nods and eyes her as he pulls away from the curb. "I did," he affirms. "Because I am. I'm happy. My world is a fucking pile of flaming shit, right now, but one fucking night back in the bed with you...and I'm fucking happy." He shrugs. "There's your proof."

She isn't sure what he means, but she agrees with whatever it is as she turns her head to look out the window. Her neck of the woods looks different before sunrise. The darkness hides the grit and keeps the drug deals and hookers in the shadows, leaving upscale-looking apartment buildings like hers in the direct path of the streetlights. It's a metaphor, she thinks, for her life. Her demons and secrets are kept in the dark while the rest of the world only sees the carefully crafted facade of a woman who has her shit together.

It's not something she's ashamed of, it's just the harsh realities of her existence and circumstances surrounding her that dictate she keeps up the well-rehearsed ruse. The only one who ever sees the grit hiding in her shadows is Elliot. The thought makes her smile and she remembers what she wants to ask him. "Are we dealing with Warner or Barton?"

"God, I hope it's Melinda," he breathes. "I can't...and I know you think I get off on the fact that she's ready and willing to blow me, but she...makes me nauseous." He made a face and a gagging noise. "I've always been the kinda guy who…" he sighs. "It's flattering, really, but there's only one woman who…" he blinks and says, "Fuck it. Put it this way, three years ago I would have eaten it up, it would have fed my fucking ego like a T-bone steak, but the way I feel about you, I don't want anyone else, I don't want anyone else to want me, okay? You. Just...fucking...you. Now, I tell ya, you ever come at me the way Barton does…" he smirked and licked his lips. "You're in trouble." He winks and slaps the blinker, turns the wheel, and exhales slowly.

"What kind of trouble?" Her question comes from grinning lips, her eyes angle in a crooked, sultry glance. She watches the way his hand runs along the steering wheel, slowly, like it had run down her arm in bed.

"Try it," he dares as he turns down another street, "And find out." He chuckles, feeling so much lighter and so much more at ease. That is, until the car pulls up to the taped off storefront and sees who, exactly, they're working with. He closes his eyes in defeat and whimpers slightly. "Please," he parks the car and turns to her, his hands clasped together, "I am literally begging, if she comes onto me, arrest her for assaulting an officer."

She throws her head back and laughs loudly, but when she pops up again, she reaches out to him. The back of her hand brushes lightly against his cheek and she whispers, "Does it still hurt?"

"Didn't hurt in the first place," he shakes his head, his eyes diving right into hers. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes. "I don't want to get out of the car," he whispers.

She cups his face gently again and then sighs. "Don't have a choice," and she slides her hand away from his purple skin. She gets out and slams the door, suddenly resentful, angry at their job, at the prick who decided to rape and kill on the same night she gets what she wants. Almost. She walks across the expansive lawn, the grass crunching under her boots, and she pulls on one latex glove. She doesn't wait for him to ask this time, she simply holds one out without looking. "Who was first on the scene?" she asks, looking at a uniformed officer who looks too old to be a rookie and bitter about it.

"Me," he spits, tapping his nameplate with one fat finger. "Richardson out of the Two-Two. Called this in during my sweep, kicked it over to you because, uh, you deal with the sex shit." He gives them a snide look and turns his nose up, as though a horrible odor passed by him, and he asks, "Who the hell are you toddlers, exactly?"

Elliot shoots Olivia a look that asks _Is this asshole for real? _And tilts his head back toward the cop. "Detective Stabler," he says, "My partner, Detective Benson. Did you touch anything when you got here?"

"Yeah, I picked her up and danced her around the park," Richardson says sarcastically.

Olivia scoffs and rubs her lips together, and she makes a mental note to have this moron's record pulled. "Did you see anything? Anyone nearby?"

"Just the chick, her thong around her ankles," Richardson throws a thumb to his left and shakes his head. "If I saw someone, I woulda run them down. I have been runnin' this beat longer than the two a'you been alive."

"And we outrank you, how about that?" Elliot jibes, loathing the way the man spoke about their vic and his smarmy attitude. "We need a copy of your notes, and for you to get the tapes from the traffic camera." He shakes his head and ushers Olivia forward, heading toward the taped off body. He guides Olivia under the tape and takes another step, but suddenly jumps and moves Olivia in front him fast, whispering into her ear, "Jesus fucking Christ. Hide me?"

"You're taller than me," she spits out, "And wider." She hits him in the shoulder and shakes her head at him. "Giant child."

Natalie Barton strides toward them, her hips swaying with each step. Her left-hand clutches a clipboard as her right shoots out to offer a handshake. "Elliot," she chirps, her bright red hair flying back in the wind. "Are you…" she softens. "What happened to your eye?"

"Detective Stabler," he corrects, and he gives a professional nod as he unenthusiastically shakes her hand and ignores her question. The fact that Barton hasn't even acknowledged Olivia's presence offends him and he says, "And Detective Benson." He pulls his hand back and discreetly wipes his palm on his jeans. "What are we dealing with?" He moves further behind Olivia.

Olivia chuckles at his reaction, his sincere attempts at getting as far from Barton as he can amuses her. "He's got a cold," she says, noticing the medical examiner's mildly offended look.

Barton makes a face but shakes her head and taps her clipboard. "Eerily similar to our first girl," she says. "No wallet this time. I'm waiting on someone to run down a portable AFIS, hopefully, she's in the system." She flips a page and shoots her eyes up to Elliot. "I got fluids this time," she tells him, her face trying to convey desire but it comes off insensitive, and she realizes it. She clears her throat.

Olivia turns to look over her shoulder at Elliot. "It's not Carter, he's still in lockup." She gives him a perplexed brow arch and bites her lip.

"Shit," he grits, but it's not in response to their connected cases losing their suspect for them, it's because he wants to kiss the fuck out of her. He runs a hand down his face and his eyes shoot over to the body lying in the wet grass. He hates this part of the job, the time spent with the person who had their innocence, dignity, and life ripped away. He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but Barton's voice interrupts his thought.

"I have cough drops," she tells him, standing beside him now. "If you need them, you have a cold?"

He gives Olivia a swift hit in the ass with his knee, thanking her for this, and he nods as he pretends to sneeze. He thanks her when she says "bless you," and then he notices how strangely she's looking at him. "What?"

"You're married?" Barton points to the platinum band on his left hand, but her smirk only grows. She's taking it as a challenge, not an obstacle.

Olivia turns then, she's certain he took the ring off before his shower and can't remember him putting it back on, but her eyes widen in slight shock as she gets a glimpse of the ring. It's not the thin gold one he'd worn for years, no, it's the shiny new band he'd been given so he could pretend to be married to _her. _Seeing it makes her hand shoot to her jacket pocket. She can feel the ring through the leather and she wonders why the hell he still has his, why he's wearing it. "Uh," she utters, "He...is?" She doesn't mean for it to be a question, but she isn't sure if he is or not, he hasn't told her his definitive decision.

He glances at her and he knows that she notices what's on his finger. He drops his hand and makes an exasperated noise before saying, "You know how she died?"

Barton scans the paper on her clipboard and flips her hair, a few strands brushing against Elliot's cheek. She notices that the instance makes him shift and move again and a part of her truly believes he's playing hard to get, trying to deny her advances because of that ring on his finger. "Blunt force trauma, just like Nesbit. The back of her skull was bashed in so hard it completely shattered, most likely piercing her brain."

"That's a lot of rage," Olivia says, folding her arms. "Any ideas on what was used?" Her eyes are zoned in on the victim's left leg, a tattoo of a scorpion stinging a rose marring her ivory skin.

"To get enough force behind it to this time of damage," Barton starts, "My guess is a baseball bat or a crowbar." She swallows hard and once she sees that Olivia's moving closer to the body, she makes her move and sidles up to Elliot. She glances down and grins; he's playing with his ring and that's usually a sign that it's going to come off soon. "How long have you been married?"

He chuckles. "Way too long," he says, thinking of Kathy, and then he stares at his hand for a moment. "Not long enough." He disregards the puzzled look on Barton's face. "Not that I'm not...very flattered, here," he rubs his chin and he lowers his voice to a whisper in an effort to respect her dignity, "But I'm not interested. Clearly, I'm unavailable, and there is nothing...nothing anyone can do that's ever gonna change how I feel about her." He lifts his left hand, allowing Barton to think he's talking about his wife, but to him, the ring symbolizes the vows he's taken with Olivia. "Please, stop, uh, making me...and my partner...uncomfortable."

She doesn't speak, not right away, and she watches him move toward Olivia again. "You need to put some ice on that eye!" she yells, but he doesn't turn to her, he simply waves over his head and gives her a thumbs up. With a slightly embarrassed and moderately rejected sigh, she moves toward the white van and pulls out her cell phone, stepping into the shadows to find out where the PAFIS is, eager to get this case closed.

Elliot leans over to Olivia, noticing that Barton isn't around, and he says, "I think I got her to back off." He tilts his head and pokes her in the side. "Yo," he prods. "Did you hear…"

"I heard you," she snaps, her eyes aimed down at the body, "Congratulations, she won't try to get you to fuck her anymore." She points to the girl's leg, still troubled by her tattoo, "You see that?" She wiggles her finger around in a circle.

"Oh, oh, uh…" he slaps her arm rapidly and makes some short and excited noises. "What's her name had one just like it, the woman from the bar! Vallero's mistress." He snaps his fingers, remembering a night from their op, the dark and hazy bar, the way she flirted relentlessly both in efforts to prove she was his wife and because she could simply blame the alcohol, when they were too lost in each other to notice the bartender giving them dirty looks and shooting them rude gestures. "That's not her, though," he says, then, recalling the end of the night when he moved in to kiss her, really fucking kiss her, and stole a glance at the woman behind the bar just before his lips pressed to Olivia's.

"No, but that's the same exact tattoo," she swipes her hair behind her ear and pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, pushes herself past Elliot, and crouches down closer to the body. She snaps a picture of the tragically beautiful ink and rises to her knees as she sends the photo to someone she knows in a lab downtown. "Maybe Rob can run it through the system."

The mention of the man's name makes Elliot cringe. "You couldn't ask someone else?" he complains, and he watches her roll her eyes. "I'm serious! You know I hate that asshole."

"He isn't an asshole," she counters, dropping her phone back into her pocket. "You only hate him because I went out with…"

"I hate him for a lot of reasons," Elliot spits, interrupting what she's saying. He cracks his knuckles and squints at her. "You got very defensive, there, you still got feelings for the guy?"

"Oh, my God," she breathes harshly, and she snaps off her rubber glove as she moves back across the lawn. "Barton, you tell us everything you got as soon as you get it!" she yells toward the redhead. She shakes her head, scoffing with a half-amused grin. How dare he get upset at her for still being civil with an ex when technically he was still married? She didn't mind the jealousy; she's always appreciated the effect she could have on him. What annoys her is his dismissiveness, his insistence that because he has feelings for her, she has to put her life on hold, and she has to break off all contact with anyone she's ever dated. She hears him call her name and ask her to "wait up" but she knows if she stops and turns around she'll melt and she thinks she's earned the right to be slightly annoyed.

"Liv!" he yells again, and he runs at a clip to catch up to her. He grabs her elbow and pulls her back as he stops, and he shakes his head. "I know what you're thinking," he whispers. "It's not him, okay? We put his ass behind bars." He looks into her eyes and there's something questionable in her gaze. He recognizes it immediately and he whispers, "Oh, honey."

She raises and lowers her eyebrows once, and she slumps over a bit. She knows it's horrible of her to have hoped that it was the son of a bitch they spent two weeks chasing, but the meat of it is that it would mean they have to go under again, be together again, be married again. It hits her that he isn't the only one who got too used to the idea too quickly. "I know," she licks her lips. "But there's a connection. There has to be. That's not a common tattoo."

He grins at her, smug and smart, and he says, "Maybe your little boyfriend will find out for us, huh?"

"Betcha he does it before your girlfriend even ID's the vic," she counters as she slaps the back of her hand against his chest, and as she turns again to head across the street to their Ford, she says, "I didn't know you still had that ring."

"You still have yours," he says, and the smile on his face is ridiculously cheesy, and now he has to consciously remind himself he can't fucking kiss her. "It's in your coat pocket." He grows a pair of balls and slides a hand down the side of her body, resting it right against her left coat pocket, and he presses into it a bit more firmly. "Or am I wrong?"

The look on her face is enough of an answer and she turns away from him quickly. She steps off the curb and her eyes light up. "You're buying me coffee," she barks, and she pulls him to the other side of the road and gives him a playful shove toward the Starbucks on the corner. Before they even get the door open, though, Elliot's phone rings. She stops, her hand still on the handle of the door, and she stares at him as he answers.

"Stabler," he says, and he juts his chin forward, telling her to go into the coffee shop. He listens to the man speak as he walks with Olivia to the velvet-rope partition. "Give me a reason," his voice is sharp, his nostrils are flaring. "Cap, give me a goddamn reason!" he whispers as loudly as he can, and his face is turning red, his left hand is gripping Olivia's hip.

"What's happening?" her voice is low, her eyes are on him, her body is sinking into his touch and part of her wishes so badly he would grab her just a bit harder because she's getting scared by the look on his face. She hears the barista behind the counter ask for her order but she can't turn away from Elliot yet.

"No, Cap, you tell me why! Shit, what reason could he have possibly…" he stops short, his eyes flicker with something caught between rage and petrification. "What?" He looks around the place and his grip tightens on Olivia. He ushers her forward and whispers, "The usual," and listens to what Cragen is telling him.

Olivia orders, but her hand dives into Elliot's pocket to grab his wallet. When she gets a heated glare, she shrugs. "I told you that you were buying me coffee," she whispers, and she hands the girl at the register one of Elliot's crisp ten dollar bills. She narrows her eyes and angles her head, trying to hear the now extremely hushed conversation he's having, and when she hears him say goodbye and end the call, she turns fully. "What now?"

He rubs his forehead and presses his lips together. "Briscoe gave up a name," he brushes her hair back, leans in close, and he takes the chance because he's scared shitless and pissed off and relieved that she's safe, that she's right there by his side and she's okay. He kisses her lips, once, softly, quickly. "I told you he was an asshole."

Her eyes widen and she lets him pull her even closer, needing his touch as much as he feels the need to touch her now. The faint sound of the barista calling her name hits her ears but goes ignored as her vision blurs and her body falls deeper into Elliot's. As she breathes, the scent of coffee mixes with his aftershave and cologne and fills her lungs. Her eyes close, she wraps her arms around him, and she knows now.

They've both fallen, hard. And there's only one thing to do that makes any sense, but neither one of them wants to be the one to say it out loud.

"Benson!" the barista yells again.

Elliot moves fast, grabbing both cups of hot coffee, and then he guides Olivia out of the building and toward their Ford, hoping that Cragen is in a forgiving mood, because he's about to do something very, very wrong.

**A/N: How is this case related to their stint undercover? And what is Elliot gonna do?**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_**Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win but the battle wages on for toy soldiers - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"I didn't sleep with him," Olivia says, her head is in her hand, elbow on the table, eyes staring at the metal desk. "Not that it's any of anyone's business."

Ed Tucker scribbles something in his notebook, runs his tongue around his teeth, and clicks his pen as he leans closer to her. "You think that's what he was after? You weren't giving it up, so he felt like he had to…"

"Christ, Ed!" Olivia snaps, her head popping up. The look on her face is something between fury and humiliation, and she pulls the sleeves of her long sweater down over her knuckles. Her fingertips barely show as she taps them angrily and nervously against the tin surface. "Your guess is as good as mine! I broke up with him, we went right back to having nothing more than a professional relationship. It was a fucking month of my life, not even! Three dates that went nowhere, so how the fuck was I supposed to know the whole damn time, he was trying to fucking kidnap me?"

"Easy, Liv," Tucker said softly. His eyes are wide as he stares at her, amazed at how powerfully upset she is and how she'd gone from calm to vicious in less than ten seconds. He drops his pen and scoots closer to her and licks his lips as he watches her heavy breaths land. "I was just asking...if you think that's what he wanted. You could have just narrowly escaped becoming…"

"No," she sighs, rolling her eyes and dropping her head backward. "I never had any inclination that he was violent, or that he had any fucked up rape fetish. You know me too fucking well to think that I wouldn't notice. If he had any of the classic signs I wouldn't have fucking gone out with him!"

"Okay." Tucker holds up both hands. His navy blue suit wrinkles as he moves in his seat, the discomfort becoming physical after being purely emotional for the last twenty minutes. "You know I had to ask."

"Next question," she hisses through gritted teeth. She's straightened herself up and clawed her behind her ears before throwing a palm at him and waving her fingers, telling him to bring it on.

Tucker blinks once. "Is there any reason, other than the obvious, that Stabler physically assaulted him?" He picks up his pen and makes a sweeping gesture with his outstretched arms. "Nothing you say here can get you in trouble. You're the victim, here, so don't be afr…"

"He's my partner," she states dryly, cutting him off before he can finish the question. "He's pissed that my ex-boyfriend hired someone we work with, planning to have me fucking Benson-napped, so I'd say that's a pretty damn good fucking reason to beat the shit out of him. Cragen didn't stop him, neither did you, so clearly you agree with him!"

Tucker sits back and slides down a bit, shakes his head, and flattens his smile. "I didn't say I blamed him for it, I just wanted to know if there was a deeper reason. He got pretty aggressive and it took four guys to pull him off of Hilliard, it just seems like it was too much rage…" he looks at her, sees the exhaustion in her eyes, the warning behind the weariness. "Then again, uh, you're both pretty protective of each other, always have been."

"So what happens now?" she asks, and her voice is almost a cry for help. She turns her eyes up toward a man who verges on friend for two months out of the year and remains on the left side of asshole for the other ten.

Tucker looks at her, really looks at her, and it's as if he's seeing her for the first time. There's a history in her eyes that seems to belong to someone far older than she is. Her hair isn't one color, it's seven. Her eyes are three different shades of brown, with a thin and veiny gold overlay that must be so beautiful when the light hits or when she smiles. She looks thinner, smaller, than the last time he's spent this much time with her, but stronger, as if every bit of flesh has become pure muscle. He realizes it must be a result of the two weeks no one talks to him about. "Now, we...tell Rob Hilliard that on top of losing the best shot he ever had at being with a woman as close to a goddess as they come, he's also lost his job and his freedom for the next fifty years or so."

Olivia gives him a small smile and drums her fingers along the metal table. "Ed, did you just hit on me?"

He simpers and shakes his head. "Please, do I look like I wanna be the next guy Stabler beats the living shit out of?" He chuckles and points at the door with his pen. "See ya later, Benson."

She rolls her eyes again as she stands and heads for the door to the interview room, shooting a wave over her head at Tucker without looking back. Once she steps out into the pickle jar of a squadroom the unit's resigned to, she heads over to Elliot, who's standing by the coffee pot rubbing his knuckles. She grabs his shoulder and spins him around. For a split second, she contemplates kissing him for all he's worth, but she simply shakes her head. "How many fights you gonna get into because of me?" She grabs his hand and turns it over, clicking her tongue at how much worse it looks now than it had last night.

"As many as it takes," he whispers to her, pulling his hand out of her grip, "To keep you safe." He shoves one bruised and swollen hand into his right pants pocket and pulls something out of it, staring down at it for a moment. Without word or warning, he snatches her hand back, shoves up the sleeve of the sweater that's too fucking big for her, and slips the cold metal around her finger. He presses his lips together as he stares down at her left hand, as if he's looking into the face of God, and he whispers, "Yeah, I took it out of your jacket pocket. Don't. Don't ask. Just...wear it."

She can't breathe. Her mouth feels like sawdust in the Sahara. Her heart is pounding harder and faster than Kieth Moon on _Pinball Wizard_, and she can't think of anything to do with her fucking hand other than leave it sitting in his as she stares at her finger dumbly.

He runs the pad of his thumb over the ring, feeling the slight separation between its two parts. The solid solitaire engagement ring clips into the platinum and diamond chip band the way he feels her hand fits in his: fucking perfectly. It's her, he thinks. Simple, but stunningly gorgeous. Not too flashy, but enough to tell the world it's priceless. He exhales, it's heavy and firm, and finally, he looks up into her eyes. "Okay?"

She looks back at him, something terrifying in his eyes, and she's afraid to say no. She's afraid to, and she doesn't want to, a deadly combination that makes her slowly nod, agreeing to the most asinine thing she's ever heard. She lifts her other hand to his face, swiping it tenderly over the horrid bruise on his cheek. "You need to…"

"Hey!"

As soon as they hear the sharp call, their hands fall to their sides and they jump three feet apart, turning obediently toward the voice.

Fin looks at them strangely, one eyebrow up, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. "Uh," he begins, trying to discern if they've both calmed the hell down. "Since your boy got pinched, your call was kicked over to Montgomery. We got a hit on the tat."

Olivia's eyes widen and she practically rips the file out of Fin's hand. She hears him mutter a bitter, "You're welcome," but she's flipping it open and reading intently so she simply grunts at him. "Son of a bitch," she hisses, and she turns on her heels and slaps the folder into Elliot's stomach.

"Christ, Liv," he huffs, winded by the blow. Shaking it off, he fumbles to get the folder into his hands and reads until he finds what's made her so furious. "Son of a fucking bitch," he spits when he gets to it, and he looks at her.

"You got somethin' you wanna share with the rest of the class?" Fin's lips twist to one side as he folds his arms, then plops into the folding chair at his tiny table.

Olivia leans back against the copy machine; the rolling cart it's perched on moves just a bit as she does. She bites her lip and wraps her arms around herself, feeling her rings snag on the knitted sleeve of her sweater. She does have something to tell the unit, but she can't. It's classified. Between her, Elliot, and two FBI agents she hopes she'll never see again. "It's just...a connection to an old case."

Elliot snorts. The case isn't that old, and it's hardly a connection one would deem important, but it's a lead they can't follow and it pisses him off. "The tattoo and the artist are linked to a trafficking ring upstate." He tosses the file onto Fin's small desk. "The runner, he, uh...he would host these parties for the most affluent couples in the area." He darts his eyes over to Olivia, bringing his right hand to his mouth to hide the salacious smirk that thinking about her in expensive dresses and stilettos has brought to life on his face.

Fin sees the look in Elliot's eyes and misreads it. "Swinger parties?"

Elliot clears his throat and drops his hands, shoves them into his pockets, and looks toward Fin. "Uh, not...not exactly. He would choose the couples, stalk them, watch them. Then, uh, he'd run into them, on purpose, ya know? Casually invite them over for dinner, hoping they'd be...dessert. If they were willing to do...whatever he asked, uh, he'd let them go, end of story."

"If they didn't?" Fin asks, but he has a feeling he already knows.

"He'd tie the guy up, make him watch as the bastard did whatever he wanted to do with the girl," he grimaces, photographs and stories and the fear of what might have been creep up and flash through his mind. "Then he'd make her watch as he killed her husband, and then he'd sell her to the highest bidder." He folded his arms. "Once, uh, he kept her. She was marked as his." He nods at the file on the table. "With that tattoo."

Fin turns and grabs the folder, confused, and he reads the two pages inside. "You...what the hell in here told you that…"

"We said it connected to an old case," Olivia interrupts, unwilling and unable to explain. "The name that came up in the database, the tattoo artist? He was the runner. The bastard who was behind the whole fucking thing." She rubs her fingers across her forehead. "He's sevring two life sentences in Rikers, so..." she shrugs. "Dead end."

Fin nods, following, and he pops his head over to her. "So, what, you think the prick had another girl? One he kept, and, uh, marked? And that it was this...uh...what's her name?"

Olivia chuckles then, bending one arm and flicking the hair out of her eyes with a finger. "I win," she says, directing her grinning gaze toward Elliot.

"Win? What do you…" his screwed up face relaxes into an easy smile, and then he laughs. "Oh, you can't be seriously holding me to that bet. We didn't even have solid terms!" He crosses one foot over the other and leans closer to her.

"I got the information I asked for before your hot little redhead got us an ID," she shrugs and makes a victoriously smug face at him.

Fin pipes up, then, staring in awe at Elliot. "Hot little redhead? You bangin' Barton behind Kathy's back?"

Elliot's stomach sours at the mention of his wife's name. "God, no," he shakes his head and his green-tinged face drops. "Hell fucking no, she was...she was just teasing me. Barton's, uh, got a little crush on me."

"Little?" Olivia quips, her eyes upturned and her brows in a W on her forehead. "You could drive a MAC Truck through her crush." She catches his eyes, bites her lip, and shrugs at him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No, no, it's just…" he breathes out and rubs his palms over his knees, then glances at Fin to make sure he's preoccupied. Then he lowers his voice. "With everything going on here, with these two assholes coming after you, and this case I...I kinda forgot about this bullshit with Kathy." He brings one hand up to his neck and squeezes as he rolls it in circles, trying to ease suddenly high tension. "Still gotta figure out what the hell to do with my kids, and how I'm supposed to explain this to my mother, and I need to find a lawyer that'll actually fucking fight for me."

There's a moment of silence, a few quiet breaths pass between them, and then she makes a pensive face, her brows curling in thought. "I'm sure anyone you ask will fight for you, and they'll win," she tells him, and then she smirks at him. "That is, uh, if they don't want to be on the receiving end of those killer left hooks." She winks and when she sees him crack a smile, she nudges him with her elbow.

The movement jostles the cart they're leaning against and it moves too far too fast. There's a bit of a surprised yelp as they lose balance, and he lands first, breaking her fall.

Fin shoots to his feet to help them, his eyes wide in panic, but when he sees them laying on the floor, tangled limbs and chests pressed together, laughing, he can't help but join in. "You two okay?" he chuckles.

They give him simultaneous nods as they work together to help each other up, and they wipe the dirt and dust off of each other's clothes. They're aware Fin's watching, but they really don't care. When they're satisfied that there's no sign of injury or permanent stain, they stop laughing and move apart awkwardly before they do something that Fin should definitely not see. "How much longer is this gonna take?" she asks, her head turning toward the back room.

Elliot shakes his head, also staring at the wall behind which Cragen and Munch are interrogating former Detective Rob Hillard, Olivia's ex-boyfriend and the man who tried to have her abducted. "No idea," he says, and then he smiles almost evilly, his eyes darken and narrow. "Maybe they can't get a decent confession because I broke his fucking jaw." He cracks his knuckles, instantly regretting it as pain sears through him. He makes an odd noise as he drops into the small metal chair by the card table he now shares with Olivia. "Fuck," he spits.

She watches him as he rubs his hands and rolls his shoulders back, and then she looks down at her hand. Her left hand. The fake wedding rings that now mean something far too real. If only she could ask him what, exactly, it was.

**A/N: What do the rings actually mean? What's going to happen with Kathy? Will they be sent back under, or will they simply have to declassify their op?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_**Now, I'm talking a man who literally saved my life, like fuck it… - Toy Soldiers (Eminem)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

She's leaning against the wall near the window in her living room with a mug of coffee in one hand as the other manipulates and twirls the ring around her finger. Her eyes waffle between staring at the diamond and staring at the man sitting on her couch, and she hits the DVR in her mind, replaying memory after memory of the times he's saved her life. She bites her lip and tilts her head; she's seen him naked, she's seen him throw up, she's watched him bleed and break, she's watched him cry. She grins, then, as she remembers that she's also seen him laugh, she's heard him crack jokes and sing and tell stories. She's danced with him, with and without music, and she's pretty sure that she's so fully fucking in love with him.

He yawns as he drops his head back against the couch, closes his eyes, and says to her, "You gonna keep six feet between us all night?"

She chuckles and moves, slowly walking toward the sofa. She sits, drops her mug to the coffee table and sighs at the fact she's making another coffee-ring in the varnish. "We almost got ourselves into fucking trouble, tonight," she says, and she leans back with another sigh.

"Well, almost doesn't count, right?" He loops an arm around her and shifts his weight, closing the small gap that lives between them. "We covered our asses." His eyes are still closed; his voice is mellow, his fingers stroke through her hair, and he lets his head loll to drop against hers.

She doesn't move, she lets him make himself comfortable, but her words belied how she truly felt, letting her hesitation win. "What are you doing?"

"Falling asleep," he mumbles, and he nuzzles against her a bit. "We should go to bed."

She smiles, but she whispers. "No, I mean...what are you doing?" When his head moves, she turns to him, her eyes turn up and she offers him a slight grin as she slips her hand into his. "With me? You...you put this ring on my finger, you're wearing yours?" She lifts their clasped hands and she brings his platinum band eye-level. "You've got your wife at home trying to figure out how to get out of the mess she's made, get you to forgive her, but you…"

"There's no forgiving her," he speaks, and he squeezes her hand with his. "As for this? These rings…" he exhales and he licks his lips. His eyes narrow as his head cocks and he smiles again. "How many times you think we saved each other's lives?"

She chuckles. "I was just thinking about that," she admits, and she finds herself running her thumb along the side of his hand as it rests in hers. "I can't even count. I think I was with the unit, what, two weeks before the first time I saved your ass?"

He laughs and nods. "Literally, the bastard would've shot me in the ass." He quirks his head as he notices her finger grazing his skin. "My point," he says, "Is that putting this fucking ring on your finger three weeks ago...you saved my damn life again. It made everything so...so fucking clear." He shakes his head as he talks, as if he can't completely fathom his own words. The gravity of them. "I was lost, Liv," he says softly, his eyes now focused on their joined hands in his lap, and he sniffles as he contemplates. "I was existing in this...flatline of a life that, I can say this now, wasn't what I wanted anymore. I was always the guy who had to sacrifice, who owed up to his mistakes and paid the price, but at fucking thirty years old, I owe it to myself to start fucking living my life, don't I?"

She furrows her brow, feels his hand grip hers harder, and his ring digs into her skin. "I always thought you were…"

"Around you," he breaks in, and he tries to confirm what he's about to say by looking deeply into her brown eyes and he takes a breath. "I'm happy around you. I have always been able to put everything else aside because, with you, I don't feel the pain or the bullshit or the stress, I'm...me...when I'm with you." He shrugs. "You always assumed I was happy at home because I was never miserable...around you." He quiets, and the silence slowly destroys him as he breathes in the strength to finish his thought, the reason he started talking to begin with. "I admit, I'm battling a lot of demons, right now. I don't know how to deal with a divorce, I'm Catholic and it's just not...it's not okay, but I also know when God gives a gift, it must mean that He can overlook some things, right?"

She tries but fails to understand, and her eyes dart to the wall by the door, the patched-up drywall that he'd spent a weekend fixing because he was the one who had punched it in the first place, and she licks her lips. "Not following," she says with a one-shouldered shrug.

He slides forward, rises to his feet, and he pulls her up as he walks backward toward her bedroom. "Before Cragen hired you," he tells her, and he turns to face forward and pushes her bedroom door open, "I was planning on making one last effort to make my marriage something I wanted, really focus on that…" he scratches behind his ear and then clears his throat as he tugs Olivia over to her dresser. "I was gonna transfer to Queens SVU, take a mid-shift gig, become a PTA Dad," he chuckles.

She holds in the gasp that she so desperately wants to take as she watches him pull open one of her drawers, the exact one her longer, larger shirts are, and she feels her skin freeze when he lets go of her hand to pull one of the tees out for her.

"I had the papers signed, was heading into Cragen's office to turn them in," he turns to her, moves closer, and throws the shirt he's picked for her onto his shoulder as he grabs the hem of her sweater with both of his hands, "And you walked in...the exact moment I was about to quit." lifts and pulls at her sweater, and he stifles a moan as her toned stomach comes into view. He tosses the wool garment into the hamper near the bathroom door, presses his lips together, and slowly moves his hands around her back. Searching her eyes for permission, he waits with fingertips at the clasp of her bra.

"So you think," she pauses to nod once at him and holds her breath as he unhooks her bra and slips it away from her body. She blushes slightly as he stares at her, and she's stunned when he doesn't do anything other than unfurl her sleep shirt and roll it over her body for her. Trembling now, she speaks. "You think I was some sort of gift from God?"

"Well, you stopped me in my tracks, Cragen told me you were my new partner, we got to work on that date-rape case, and by the end of the night, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else," he told her in one breath, fast-talking as his hands remained pressed to her bare back under her shirt. He grinned then, moving his left hand downward. He shoves it into her pants pocket, grabbing her phone, and he tosses it onto the end table, reminding himself to plug it into one of the chargers. Then he grabs at the waist of her pants, unclips the button-fly, and shoves them over her hips, nonchalantly rolling her blue satin underwear down with them. "I never gave Cragen those papers, or any indication they even existed, and the last three years have been the most invigorating and exhilarating of my entire life. I'm better at my job, I'm a better father...because of who I am, when I'm with you, and that case upstate, fuck, it only gave me more fucking proof that I need to fucking do this!"

"Do what?" Her voice cracks, the nerves taking hold as she stands before him in nothing but a Bon Jovi tee shirt that she hopes he doesn't recognize. It's his. She feels slight wetness form between her legs, the look on his face and fire in his eyes is turning her on even though she's not sure what it means.

"This," he repeats, a dry-throated hiss, pulling her closer, holding her against him. He brushes his nose against hers, tilts his head slightly to the left, and kisses her. There's no hesitance, no tentative peck before diving off the cliff, it's a full-on, open-mouthed, tongue sweeping kiss from the start. Moans mix and land on their clicking teeth, fingernails begin to claw at skin and muscle, one bare leg hooks around a pant-sheathed one, and hips thrust and buck in a vain attempt to make more of this than either is ready for right now. He pulls himself away and mutters a rushed and breathless apology, but his head is pressed to hers, his hands are still on her back, her body is tangled around his. "Fuck," he spits on a chuckle.

"Well, it would've been," she teases, and her hands run down his back. She balls them into fists as they curl around his shirt, and she pulls the fabric out and up, leaving him bare-chested. She sees how red his skin is, and she knows from experience that he's just as aroused, just as desperate for her as she is for him. Her lip catches between her teeth as she runs her hands over his shoulders, down the front of his chest, to his belt. Suddenly, her eyes pop up to meet his, his hands now wound around her wrists.

"You do that," he tells her with a voice that sounds like sex and sandpaper, "and I won't be able to control myself." He kisses her softly this time and then backs up, letting go of her. He moves back to her dresser, the drawer still open, and as he undoes his belt with one hand he chuckles. "Half of these are mine," he says.

She gives him an innocent smile and a shrug, then watches as he closes the drawer and then moves to the side of the bed. He turns away from her, the temptation too strong and his self-control dwindling. He knows that if he looks at her while taking off his clothes, he will move too fast, go too far, and he wouldn't regret it at all. It's not himself that he's worried about. He drops his pants and kicks them off, sending them flying to the side of the room. He turns, then, if only to test his ability to keep a respectable distance, and he smirks as he crooks a finger at her.

She sighs as she moves, walking into his arms, and the feel of so much of his skin against hers is bringing back memories, ones she hopes she will be reliving. As he kisses the top of her head, her eyes close and she wonders when this is all going to crash down, when he's going to decide he's going back to Kathy because he feels nothing is worth losing his seat in Heaven.

He knows what she's thinking; he always does. He wraps his fingers around hers and slides his thumb over the diamond twice. "I called a lawyer," he whispers. "When you were talking to Tucker."

She eyes him, calming herself down before snapping at him. "You didn't tell me before because…" she raises one eyebrow, her hands slide up his back.

He moans at her touch and then he says, "Because we had a lot going on," and he gives her a slight nudge toward the bed. He waits for her to get in, then slowly crawls in beside her. He rolls onto his side, scoots as close to her as he can, and shoves his right arm underneath her as his right hand drags up and down her arm. "I didn't want to bring up my issues when we were in the middle of a rough case and had IAB hovering over the unit like a fucking helicopter." He kisses the end of her nose.

"Okay," she whispers. She looks into his eyes and she sees that he's staring at her the way he did when they were under, a mischievous twinkle and a crucible of emotions that she can't find words for, and she wonders, as he kisses her nose again, if he's always looked at her that way and it took sharing a bed and a life with him for two weeks to notice. "So what happened?"

"I have a meeting with him tomorrow," he says softly, and his head tilts, moves, and he kisses her lips once. "I'm requesting new papers, this isn't an amicable divorce anymore, and I'll be damned if I simply sign the ones she's been threatening me with for three fucking years when she's the one who destroyed our lives."

"She...hold on," her brows knit together and she leans herself up a bit on one elbow. "She's had divorce papers for…"

He stops her speaking by kissing her again, and he doesn't even offer the apologetic smile anymore. He no longer cares about decorum, he's going to kiss her when he wants. "She had them written up a month after I met you," he tells her, and the grin on his face is smug and self-righteous. "See, we both knew this was gonna happen." He winks, he presses his lips to her forehead, and he nestles closer to her and closes his eyes. His fingers slip across her skin, the contact and sensation are lulling them both to sleep even though there's so much more to talk about it, to understand and work through.

His hand stops moving, their breathing is synchronized in a slow and even tempo, and the bridges of their noses are touching. It's comfortable, and it's wonderful, but it's not as long lasting than either wish. Less than four hours after they'd fallen asleep, their cell phones blare loudly, his bleeping with the factory-installed default tone and hers playing the theme from _Dragnet_. Simultaneous groans of discomfort escape their mouths and land on the lips of the other, and blindly they shift and shuffle around on the bed.

She isn't used to someone else being in the way and she slaps him several times in an effort to reach the end table. He's doing the same, but only because he's still mostly asleep, and he's usually sleeping on the other side of the bed grasping for his phone on the right side table. He yawns as he sits up and rubs his eyes to full openness. "Shit," he growls, leaning to his left. He grabs both cells, hands one to her and hopes it's the right one, and then spits out a groggy sounding, "Stabler."

She listens to Cragen talk to her, the heel of her hand pressing into her right eye, and she says, "How? When?" as her body snaps awake.

Whoever is talking to Elliot has clearly said the same thing; he's fully conscious now and half out of the bed, grabbing at his discarded pants. He leans his head over, holding his phone with his ear as he bends to pull up the slacks. He looks around for his badge and gun but then remembers they're in the living room, on the coffee table. "Okay, yeah, we...we'll be right there. You said, three-fifty-three?"

Olivia is by his side, now, pulling clothes out of her closet and throwing them on as quickly as possible. "Thanks, Cap," she spits, and then she hangs up and looks at Elliot. "Son of bitch fucked up," she says, and then she adds, "Lucky for us."

"We're using the dash light and I'm hitting the gas," he tells her, buttoning up a new shirt that he's tugged off of a hanger. He doesn't pretend to know why she has his clothes in her closet and her drawers, but he doesn't mind since he's expecting to bring even more of his shit into her room. He rushes into the next room, picks up two guns, two badges, and slips his feet into his shoes. He'll worry about socks later since it's the one thing of his she doesn't have tucked away. "Think we'll make it?"

"God, I hope so," she says, combing her hair with her fingers and checking her breath with a cupped hand. She yelps as she feels herself being yanked backward and she moans as he kisses her once.

"You don't get morning breath, baby," he chuckles with a wink, and he leads her out of the apartment after grabbing their jackets. He uses his key to lock the door and as they jet down the hall, he looks down at his left hand. The right ring, the right woman, the right life, he thinks to himself, and he smiles in spite of heading to a hospital in hopes of talking to the first vic their perp has left alive.

It's a grim way to start the day, but for some reason, he's the happiest he's ever been. He's been unstable, on shaky ground for so long, but he feels like he's finding footing now. He knows why, and he needs to find a way to convince Olivia that, even though he's been trying so hard not to do it, moving too fast might be the only thing that will keep him from falling.

**A/N: Is their victim alive? Are they heading into dangerous territory? A conversation with Kathy and full disclosure on their op...next. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_**When one problem gets solved, two more pop up on the radar. **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"That was…" Elliot exhales harshly and shakes his head, "I couldn't even look at her."

Olivia nods as she sips her coffee. "He really did a number on her," she says with closed eyes, trying to forget the bruised and broken face of their victim. "At least she was able to give us a few details to go on before she…" she swallows the uncomfortable guilt. She feels horrible; she knows they should have gotten the son of a bitch and prevented this. "Before she passed out," she finishes, and she takes another sip of her coffee before sitting across from Elliot at the small card-table. She glances around the room, wondering when they'll be able to go back to their own floor, their own space, because it's cramped and starting to smell in the temporary home. "You talk to Kathy?" She sighs, knowing she shouldn't have asked.

"God, she's fucking unbelievable," he spits out, and the grief and sympathy that had laced his face moments ago is replaced by venomous etchings of pure loathing. "She actually told me she's fighting for the kids. You know, I talked to a lawyer, and he told me that she doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell at getting them, but she's fighting anyway." He sneers and cracks his knuckles, scoffing at the unkind thoughts in his head aimed at his soon-to-be Ex-Wife. "Then she says, I swear this came out of her mouth, that if I called off the divorce, she wouldn't mind if I brought another woman home. Can you believe her?"

"She's got a pretty progressive outlook on life, huh?" Olivia teases, but Elliot isn't laughing. He's not even smiling. "I was just…" she stops herself and rolls a kink out of her neck, then realizes it's better to keep their conversation about work, their case, and how it's all tying back to the two weeks she can't stop thinking and dreaming about. "We have to tell Cragen, ya know. About how we knew why the tattoo was…"

"We don't have to tell him fucking anything," he answers with a bitter chuckle. "Because if I start talking about it, I'll say shit that'll get us both fired." He tilts his head and smooths a hand down his tie; he knows damn well she knows that means he's thinking about her naked. "You're wearing my ring, you know what that means, right?" He narrows his eyes as a look of uncertain confusion passes over Olivia's face. "It means...exactly what it would mean if…" he clears his throat. "It means...what it meant up until Monday morning."

"You've gone completely mental," she chuckles, but he doesn't crack. "You...are you serious?"

He nods once, and then he smirks at her as he reaches over the table to grab her coffee. "Starting with, what's yours is mine," he winks as he takes a sip and licks his lips, deliberately staring into her eyes. He knows he's getting to her; the memories that are burned into his mind are living in vivid technicolor in hers. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, deeply regretting that his moral compass points closer to North than other men, and he couldn't bring himself to take things as far as he'd wanted when he'd had the chance. Looking at her now, the way her hair falls loosely into her eyes, the way those eyes sparkle when she looks back at him, he realizes that now, when it happens, it will be immaculate and not something they were forced into for the sake of a case. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms. "What time is it?"

"Three forty-five," she answers, sipping her coffee. She grimaces; it's lukewarm and bitter, and she actually misses the sludge that Munch makes in the ancient pot upstairs.

"In an hour and fifteen minutes," he says with an air of relief, "I will be legally separated." He chuckles. "Kathy will be, too, but, uh, she isn't happy about it. What I'm trying to say is...from five tonight on...you and me, Liv...we…"

"Benson!" Cragen yells as he rushes through the room toward her desk, and he slams a file with two photos paperclipped to it onto the table. "Explain this! Now!" He glares at Elliot and his nostrils flare slightly. "If i don't like the answer, we're gonna have a problem, hear me?"

Olivia pales as she looks down, the images of her bare back clear and vivid as she is, obviously, straddling Elliot, who's grinning up at her like a fox. "These pictures were taken, by our perp...through the window," she says dryly, "The guy was watching us, this was...I mean, he saw exactly what we wanted him to see, it was just…"

"You were baiting him," Cragen said, "Got it." He tapped a finger down on the file. "But why wasn't I in on the debriefing of this…"

"Cap," Elliot interrupted, "This wasn't an SVU case, it was federal, you know that. You weren't read in on it, you didn't want us to go in the first place, but we got the bastard, it's over."

Cragen's lip twitches. It's the second time that Elliot has snapped at him like that, and he's just about ready to bench his best detective because of his attitude. He shakes his head and then drops his gaze to the photos and the file and shakes his head. "My question...this file has had so much redaction that it's literally just a bunch of articles and pronouns. I need to know if this asshole got too close, Olivia."

Olivia smirks, the slideshow of mental snapshots depicting Elliot being defensive, protective, and aggressive plays in her mind. "Nowhere near," she says firmly. "We did our jobs, he never…"

"Okay," Cragen sighs. "Then you can stay on this," he tells her. "I was gonna pull you, once I realized there was a connection to this hump, I don't want to put you in a position to take the stand where someone could claim entrapment or some shit. You were never made? No one else figured out…"

"The fucker's dead," Elliot says, calmly and effortlessly, as he slides his chair closer to the table. "He was the only one that knew we were cops, and he...died...three seconds after he found out." He rubs his nose, trying to forget how the man died, was killed, and it still isn't certain if it was Olivia's billet or his. He clears his throat and looks up at Cragen. "Why are you even asking, we know this case has nothing to do with that federal op…"

"I'm covering your asses," Cragen says, pointing at him, "And all our bases." He crosses his arms. "What did the girl give you?"

Olivia drops her empty foam cup to the table and combs her hair behind her ears. "She said he has a scar on the left side of his face, from his eye to his chin. He's got dark hair, light eyes, and from the impressions left on her throat, he's left-handed." She feels the ring, cold against her skin, as she folds her hands. She hears his words echo in her ears and it completely distracts her from what she's supposed to be doing. He doesn't mean what he's said, she knows the ring on her finger is an excuse for him to wear the one on his, because he doesn't know how to cope without it; there's been a ring on his finger for a decade.

"Benson," Cragen calls, and he gives an annoyed snap of his fingers. When she looks up at him, he says, "You were saying?"

"Oh, uh," she twists the ring around, hiding the diamond palmside, and she flips a page of her notes. "The hospital did a full exam, complete kit is in the lab as we speak, and, uh, there was a hand print around her neck. Warner's sending someone from the crime lab over to the hospital with some special camera to try to get runnable prints."

Cragen nods at her. "Well, you two let me know when you…"

"Hey," Tucker's voice bounces off the walls as he comes into the room. "You can start taking everything back up," he says as he slaps Elliot on the back. "Guys finished scrubbing and patching, you just, uh...gotta use the stairs."

Elliot stands and turns, holding out a hand to shake Tucker's. "Thanks, man," he says with a smile. He starts grabbing what he can, eager to get the hell out of the temporary space that reminds him of what his dorm room would have been like if he'd ever had one.

Olivia chuckles and rolls her eyes, feeling her stomach flip; seeing the childlike enthusiasm on his face and the giddy way he piles things that aren't even his into his arms, she's falling in love with him all over again. "You wanna slow down there, buddy? We're in the middle of…"

"A case that would get solved a lot faster if had access to our own desks, computers, and files, right?" He scoops up a stapler and moves to leave, but the woman who suddenly appears in the doorway stops him. His smile fades. "Move," he hisses and he tries to sidestep her but she presses a hand to his chest, a move that makes him clench his jaw and seethe slightly.

"A legal separation?" Her voice is low, an accusation in her eyes. "Today? How could you do…"

"How could _you_?" he counters, his words thick with disdain. He looks at Kathy and he can't see any trace of the woman he once loved. "My lawyer tracked down the guy Liv saw you with...and two other guys you, uh, went to dinner with. You fucking lied to me. You actually tried to make me feel guilty for things that...were just...my job," the lies sting as he speaks them but he has every right to say what he's about to say. "You slept with other people, Kathy! You really thought I wouldn't find out? That I'd forgive you? I know we got married young…"

"Too young," she tells him with a nod, "But I thought that you were...with her," she shrugs and looks at him with innocent eyes and a tender smile. "There's no reason to give up the life we have, Elliot. We can have the stability of this marriage and the life we missed out on by…"

"Listen to me," he interrupts, his nostrils flare but he keeps his temper in check out of concern for the people behind him. "I never felt like I was missing anything. Not until…"

"Liv came along," Kathy finished, a slightly cocked eyebrow and smirk on her face. "About the same time I started…"

"Fucking around behind my back!" Elliot yells this time, and he takes a bit of pleasure in the way she flinches. "I never did that. Not even…" he exhales and then he whispers again, "I didn't sleep with her, not once. I wouldn't. Kathy, You were my wife, do you have any idea how seriously I took the promise we made to each other? What that fucking meant to me?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you aren't in love with Olivia," she practically begs, and she silently prays it's what he's going to do.

He shakes his head. "I can't," he laughs as he feels the tears sting at his eyes. "But I could have ignore it. For you, I could have…" he licks his lips as he sniffles. "But because you did what the fuck you did, I don't have to, and because you know I'm in love with her...you can't possibly ask me to give up the life I want with her when I don't have to, now. So that bullshit about being with her while I'm still married to you? Fucking no way in hell. Five O'clock tonight, we won't have this conversation ever again." He pushes past her and heads for the staircase before anyone could see his tears fall.

He hears her heels clicking and he pushes the stairwell door open for her. "Go ahead," he sniffles. "Say it."

She looks up at him, narrowing her eyes, and she has no idea what he thinks she's going to say to him, but she opens her mouth anyway. "I love you," she says with a shrug.

"God, Liv," he breathes, and he moves to let the door close, bends his head to kiss her, and whispers, "I love you, that's why I…"

"I know," she silences him, and she takes some of the things out of his hands before it all falls to the floor. "She actually wants me to convince you…"

"She asked you to talk to me?" He chuckles again and runs one hand down his face. "Great, you were looking for a way out of this, and she gave you one."

"A way out of what?" She starts climbing the stairs, knowing he'll follow. "She asked, I told her to shove it. I'm more pissed off at her than you are!"

He moves, catching up to her, and he's about to say something he knows will scare her, but he's stopped by his ringing phone. He rolls his eyes and answers it. "Stabler." He looks at her as the voice in the other end of the phone speaks. "What? Are you sure? Yeah, we're on the way. Thanks."

She eyes him and waits.

"That was Warner. She got a hit on both the DNA and the prints from our vic." He licks his lips and looks down at the phone still in his hands, as if he can't believe what he's been told. "Bastard's a cop."

**A/N: What?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_**There's a thin line between memory, fantasy, and goal. That line is often too blurry to see, and if we're truly lucky...it's erased. . **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

The entire floor smells like fresh paint and smoke, a lethal combination for the lungs of someone who runs two miles every morning, drinks green smoothies, has never touched a cigarette, and would stick to a vegan diet if the sandwiches from the deli weren't fucking amazing. It's giving her a migraine, and as she rubs her temples, she leans against the newly reinforced wall and closes her eyes, praying the bastard will crack and let her go the hell home.

She inhales and stifles a cough as she opens her eyes, looks at the man sitting in the metal chair and folds her arms as she takes a step toward him. He's older than her partner, but not by much. His hair is thinning, greying. There are scars on his chin and cheeks from where, she assumes, he's taken a few work-related hits. He doesn't seem the type, she muses. He's slight of form, not nearly as strong as Elliot, nowhere near as big as he'd need to be to do what he's been accused of doing. "Answer him," she says, goading the man to say what Elliot has been badgering him to say for twenty minutes.

"I know my rights, Benson," the man spits, and his eyes wander down her body. Her untucked shirt hangs loosely around her hips, he wonders what color her underwear is as he licks his lips.

It's something Elliot notices, and being a man, he, too, knows what it means. As he whips the back of his hand across the base of the suspect's head, he snarls, "You also know there's no way out of this, not for you." He pushes his cotton sleeves up past his elbows and cracks his knuckles, one by one. "Either you answer our questions, or you can answer IAB's...from the ICU."

"Seriously," Olivia interrupts, bending over and resting her hands on her knees as she leers at the disgraced cop in their midst, "He will hurt you."

The man rolls his eyes. "You really think, after years of watching this shit, I feel threatened by either of…" before he can finish speaking, sharp, hot pain courses through his entire body. His left arm is being pulled behind him and around to the right side of his back, he can feel every nerve and tendon crying and screaming for help. "Fucking Christ, Stabler," he shouts, twisting to reduce the risk of dislocation. "Okay, okay, okay!" he pleads, his eyes closed tightly and his jaw hung open in a silent scream.

Elliot smirks as he lets go. "How," he says, "Did your fingerprints and a thousand of your little swimmers get on the body of that girl?" He palms the bastard's head like a basketball and pushed forward, forcing the man to look at the police photos of their bruised and broken twenty-one-year-old vic. "Silas, last chance," he warns, squeezing his fingers together, putting more pressure on the back of the man's head.

"I fucked her, all right?" Silas DiMartino, a homicide detective from a different precinct, bends fr over and loosens himself out of Elliot's grip. "Fucked her, and then I left her in the fucking hotel room."

"How rough did you get?" Olivia asks, though, after talking to the vic, she already knows. "Or was she on the verge of turning you down? You thought that you needed to…"

"She couldn't turn me down! I paid for full-service," DiMartino says, and there's no shame in his voice, only pride, as if being able to afford a high-class call girl makes him better than the rest of the world.

"You paid for her?" Elliot questions, his eyes narrow. He looks over at Olivia who has a similarly skeptical look on her face. "We talked to the girl, Sy," he says, turning tables and becoming more of the "good-cop" version of himself. "She described her attacker, and, man, it's you. Down to the scar on your face." For emphasis, he jabs at the longest, darkest mark on the man's cheek.

Silas drags his eyes away from Elliot and back over to Olivia. "She was a hooker, okay? You think she'd pin the attack on her pimp who just tried to kill her? No, she described the last jump she fucked because the evidence would be solid." He taps his left temple. "I'm a cop, been one for too fucking long." He throws his hands up and says, "For the sex detectives, you missed the fucking obvious. I'm the scapegoat because he left her alive. She wants to stay that way, so of course she doesn't give up her handler."

Olivia scoffs. She doesn't believe him, but she has to admit he has a point, and he's given them reasonable doubt. "We can hold you…"

"For forty-eight hours, I know," DiMartino shakes his head and snorts. "And I know you can charge me with shit, you'd make it stick, but I didn't hurt her! Just do me a solid and actually run with this? Don't make me the fall guy because you can't find her fucking daddy." He runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes, defeated. "And please," his voice is soft, humiliation finally being born from him, "Don't...don't tell anyone else I…"

"You mean your wife," Olivia speaks, her voice drips with disdain and she thinks, for a moment, of the many ways she's been beaten over the head with infidelity in one way or another in the past few days. "We won't tell her anything she doesn't need to know." She shakes her head and turns, heading through the shiny new door, and when she gets into the pit, she folds her arms. "You want us to talk to her again, don't you?"

Cragen shoots her a look that says _no shit _and then he speaks. "Man has a valid point. It makes sense if it's a pimp killing off the girls he bought from your trafficker. He's trying to sever ties so he can't be connected to anything that…" he stops and he looks at her. "Your case followed you home, huh?"

"Not exactly," she bites her lip as she says it, and she feels the ring on her finger. The case didn't follow them home; the case _is _home. "A buyer who wasn't on his roster when we got a hold of it, different jurisdiction, different circumstances…" she shakes her head and let's her arms fall, and she can feel Elliot's heat radiating from behind her. "This wasn't our fault."

"Never said it was," Cragen says, "But you have to find the girl's pimp. Run her LUDs again, track any number that comes up more than once." He takes a long look at her before glancing toward Elliot. "Go get some fresh air, first. You both look sick." He throws a thumb over his shoulder and then turns his attention toward the glass, dreading the call he needs to make to Tucker.

Elliot nods and hooks a hand around the bend in her arm. "You okay?" He asks the question as he pulls her through the second door and into the hall. His shoes land with hard claps on the waxed floor as he tugs her along, through the clean, updated squadroom.

"I can't breathe in here," she tells him. She tugs on the collar of her shirt, suddenly unsure if it's the paint fumes making her woozy or if it's him. The ring feels colder against her skin now. Maybe it's the temperature dropping as they head for the stairs, maybe it's her own blood freezing at the thought of being caught up in the case that she'd hoped would be left in Syracuse. She bumps into his back when he stops moving, and she looks at him with a raised brow. "Why did you…"

He shakes his head, it stops her speaking, and he licks his lips as he drags a hand down his face. "Just...the last time we took the stairs…"

"Don't," she warns, "Can we just please…"

"Not down," he says fast, and he works his way around her, still tugging on her arm, and he swerves, changing direction, and instead of leading her down the stone steps, he's guiding her up the flights. He notices they've painted the walls, different shades of blue to indicate change in floor and department. There are shiny new vinyl letters on the doors to tell the same thing, and he pushes the bar to open the door marked "Roof Access," as soon as he sees it.

It's like being reborn, she thinks, as the cool air fills her lungs. It still holds an aroma that's less pleasant than she'd like, but it's not paint fumes and bug spray anymore, and for that she's thankful. She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath, unconsciously leaning backward into Elliot.

"I know," he says softly, his grip on her arm loosened but not forgiven, his fingers grazing a pattern up and down the outside of her elbow. "It's nothing like it was upstate. The air up there...was so clean, so...pure. It made us both…"

"Crazy," she chuckles, attempting a joke, and as though she's only now realized he's caressing her arm, she drops her eyes toward his hand, she watches his fingers as they drag upward, swirl in a small circle, and slide down her arm. The goosebumps that rise under his touch prove she's loving it.

"I was gonna say 'happy," he laughs, "But I guess we got a little crazy, huh?" He lets his hand keep up its maddening flirtatious dance, but he drops his chin to the top of her head and stares out at the view over the ledge. The tops of buildings, bathed in the bronze sunset, and a bird's eye vantage of the parks and alleys a few blocks away stare back at him. He gnaws lightly on the inside left of his cheek, one night from their op beginning to play back in his mind like a favorite movie.

He can feel her beneath him, the way she never protested or stopped him. He recalls her eyes, how dark they'd become in the moment, slightest fear hidden behind passion, desire, need, and desperate love. He'd known, then, that he had to take things just a bit too far, the man watching them was losing interest because he'd never seen anything truly indicative of their sexual prowess. His breath quickens as the memory comes to full life, her scent filling his nostrils and burning its way into his lungs, her taste splays over his tastebuds, the feel of her thighs against his ears muffling everything in the world but her soft moans of his name and God's.

"Elliot?" Her voice breaks him out of his erotic reverie, and he realizes he'd been gripping her arm too tightly and some of the noises he was making weren't merely in his head. He moves and he winces; he's harder than a steel pipe, now, and he knows damn well she feels it against her ass. "What?" he says after clearing his throat. He swallows hard, and he swears he's got her cum on his tongue. He'd never truly gauged the power of his recollection until this moment.

She turns around, holding in the moan that threatens her as she does, in fact, feel her body swipe over his thick hardness, and she's caught between enjoying it and being scared shitless. She presses her lips together and looks up at him, her hands fall onto his hips and she moves closer to him. It's an effort to block the wind, but it's also an admission that she knows exactly what he was remembering because she can't fucking forget it either. "You don't have to do this. I never expected anything from you, okay? If you think you owe me because of what…"

"Owe you?" he scoffs, and it's half-offended, half-admission. "I owe you my life, but I don't…" he shakes his head and he slides his other hand to her other arm. "You really don't get it, do you?" He looks over his shoulder and then pushes her two feet to the left, out of direct view in case anyone else pops through the door, but he knows too fucking well they're the only two people crazy enough to spend any time on the roof. He blinks quickly and then returns his attention to her face, her lips first because God he wants to fucking kiss her, and then her eyes as he speaks again. "I've already told you, I…" he squints, he wrinkles his nose as he let's go of one of her arms to tug nervously at his ear. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life, I need to talk to a judge and call in every favor I possibly can so I don't lose the right to be a father to my kids…"

"That's not gonna happen," she interjects, shaking her head with a reassuring smile. "You're an incredible father, and everyone in the city fucking knows…"

"Wait, I'm…" he holds up a hand and then drops it to her shoulder, slowly he drags it over the curve, down her arm, and he moves closer to her. "I'm trying to tell you…" he exhales so hard that his cheeks puff when he does it, his whole body begins to shake, and his left hand grabs hers, his thumb finds her diamond and he flicks it back around her finger. "I know what I'm doing. What...what we're doing. You're not some fucking rebound, or a way for me to get revenge, I...I came back from…" he stops, he smiles, and he lets out soft chuckle. "No, I should say, I went into that op with you...completely in love with you. Having two weeks with no one else to distract me, or remind me that it was wrong, or fucking talk me out of it…" he shakes his head and he takes and releases another short breath.

She watches him; his confliction is clear and present, she knows he's devastated and confused and excited and thrilled all at once and it's making him crazy. She grips his hand and she shakes her head, trying to tell him he doesn't have to do or say anything else. She opens her mouth to give him a way out of the hole he's gotten himself into, but his right index finger presses over her lips.

"Living with you...having that freedom to do, to feel, to realize…" he smiles and he leans just a bit closer to her. "I know we both thought we'd be able to come back here and forget it ever happened, to back to the way things were before...but when you told me Kathy fucking decided we weren't working, too, it was like God himself telling me that we can take this chance, that it doesn't have to end, and that life we had for those two weeks...is the life I want for the rest of my life." He holds back the tears that are stinging his eyes and he takes yet another breath. "And," he smirks and narrows his eyes, "I want to fucking find out how incredible you feel...taste...and sound…" he pauses to lean closer and moan lowly into her ear as he whispers, "When there's no one fucking watching us."

Her skin is hot, her cheeks burn, and she feels her entire body react to his words. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up. "We can't just jump into…"

"We aren't jumping into anything," he says, and his fingers tease the sides of her waist. "We've been fucking wading in the shallow end for three fucking years. Three weeks ago we got thrown into the deep end, and ya know what? We both fucking know how to swim." He hooks a finger through one of the belt loops on her pants and tugs her closer, his lips hover over hers as he breathes hot and fast, and he swears he can hear her heart beating. "Question is, do we doggie paddle or go for a fucking world record?"

Her mind goes blank except for the pure panic she's feeling now. This is the shit she used to dream about, she can remember every fantasy she's had in her life and they all involve him saying similar things and looking at her just the way he is, and two weeks of her we're spent living in one of those incredible dreams. Now he's offering to make the rest of them come true and she's terrified. Her breath quickens as she stares into his eyes and she tells herself on the count of three she's going to say something, but she isn't sure if her heart, head, or sex drive will do the talking. She mentally rattled off the numbers. _One. Two. _"Kiss me."

He grins smugly and moves that final centimeter, pressing his lips against hers, and it isn't long before their mouths open, their tongues tangle and dance, and he relaxes as he feels her sink into him. His hands find the small of her back, he can feel her fingers dig at his spine, and for now, the decision is made. He pulls away with reddened lips and a hazy look in his eyes, like he's been drugged. "Let's get back in there, find this son of a bitch so we can go the hell home, huh?"

The way he's looking at her makes her quake, but she nods. She's convinced, now, that he fully intends to pick up where their undercover counterparts have left off, but she has no clue what that means, exactly. She has a feeling, though, that as soon as they follow up on the small but possible lead DiMartino gave them, she'll find the fuck out.

**A/N: What exactly is Elliot talking about? A conversation with Kathy, the kids, and a lawyer… **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **_**The only way to truly challenge yourself is by facing your biggest fear: love.**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Some part of her brain is registering everything that Tucker is saying, but her eyes are focused on the world outside the window. She watches a man run down the street, chasing a taxi. She winces slightly as a blue car almost clips a bicycle messenger, and she can read the driver's lips as he exchanges profane names and obscenities with the cyclist. A tiny dog yaps on the walk and another one barks and growls in return as their owners obliviously type on their cell phones. That's New Fucking York, for you. And as she watches, she tries to imagine trading places with any of those people.

"You got another name, yet?" Tucker asks, his annoyed voice spitting the question across the room. He's chewing on a toothpick and narrowing his eyes, scrutinizing Olivia. She looks tired, he thinks, more so than he's ever seen her. She's distant and combative and he wonders if sending her upstate with her partner and federal fuckwad was smart. "Benson?"

"Only one phone number in the vic's records sent up a flare," she says, proving she's listening but she's still staring out the window. "Unregistered cell, probably a burner." She licks her lips and sighs, and then finally turns to look at Tucker. "We went to talk to her and as soon as we walked in, she panicked. She was too scared to say anything to us about her attacker."

"She did, uh, she did thank us for calling her parents," Elliot pipes up, folding his arms. "She hasn't seen them in years, there was a missing person's report filed in Massachusetts, this has to be the same bastard that…"

"I'm sure it is," Tucker tells him, and his eyes roll almost reflexively. "But what the fuck is his name? Where is he? How many other girls are gonna wind up dead because you can't find him?"

Olivia turns on him, takes two steps forward, and she crosses her arms. "I still think it's DiMartino. The only prints on the girl were his, his hand was around her throat, his fingers almost squeezed the life out of her!" She shakes her head and thrusts a hand in the direction of the interrogation room. "Now, a few bruises from rough sex is one thing, but those marks were obviously not…" she cleared her throat, trying to control her anger. "He's in there with a department attorney and a guy from your office, working out a defense, and if we nail him for this anyway, it's your ass!"

"You don't think I know that?" Tucker barks back, leaning forward. "We're only here waiting on your guys to find something, anything else to tie him to this and once you get it, I pull my support! I'm a cop first, IAB rep second! One goes dirty, Benson, I'm not gonna be the one covering up for him!"

"Bullshit!" She hisses at Tucker, her eyes are dark, her lips are tightly pressed together as her jaw clenches. She knows he's responsible for sweeping half of the shit the NYPD has been accused of under the rug, that someone greases his pockets to make it happen.

"Watch it, Benson," Tucker threatens coldly, but he knows he isn't intimidating to her. He's never been able to get to her or Stabler the way he gets to his other charges. It pisses him off to no end, but it also intrigues him and makes him incredibly proud. "I'm on your side here."

She shakes her head and scoffs. Tucker's never been on her side, and probably never will be, not completely. If he ever is, it's only out of respect for Elliot since they're what some would consider friends. "Whatever," she mumbles. She hears Elliot's phone ring and she prays that it's Fin or Munch telling them they've been on a wild goose chase and they can throw the book at the asshole, they can nail his ass to the wall. She turns and watches Elliot answer his phone, smirking slightly as the light hits his ring, making it shine. She still isn't sure what it really means, but damn, does it give her butterflies.

"Got it, I will call her right now, thanks," Elliot says, and then he hangs up and smiles triumphantly. "Go in there and pull your support, Ed." He nods once. "Fin searched DiMartino's car. Found a cell phone in the glove compartment. He called the number from the girl's records, and, wouldn't ya know it, the fucking thing rang! He also found a roll of duct tape, rope, and a black book of names and dates, probably his clients and, uh, employees. He said they're bringing it all back to the lab."

"Do I get to do my 'I Told You So' dance now?" Olivia cracks, her hands on her hips.

Elliot chuckles, picturing the last time she re-enacted a scene from _Will and Grace, _and he licks his lips to keep from seeming too happy in light of a tense situation. "I gotta call Cabot, and then, uh, Munch and Fin are taking over." He dialed the attorney's number as he looked at Olivia. "We're officially off this case."

"What?" Olivia snaps, fury winning over relief because she's fucking tired and can't wait to get home, but she didn't want out, not like this. "Why?"

With a sigh, Elliot takes two steps toward her and drops his voice, knowing Tucker would have something to say if he heard. "Fin, uh, told me that this son of a bitch has Hillard's number stored in that burner. These pricks were working together, Rob, uh, only asked you out to…" he holds up a finger telling her to wait, and he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, it's Stabler," he begins. "We need you down here to schedule an arraignment for...well, I told him I was gonna call you so I did, no need to get bitchy. No, we won't be here. Thanks, though. Bye." He rolls his eyes as he hangs up and says, "One day she wants to be your best friend, the next she wants to get in my pants."

"Say what, now?" Olivia lifts her brows, tilts her head, and tries to remember when she ever gave Alex Cabot the idea that her so much as calling Elliot by his first name would be okay.

He sees the look on her face, in her eyes, and he laughs softly. "Relax," he tells her, and he discreetly slides his hand down her arm and cups her elbow. "She knows I'm, uh, married," his eyes narrow, and he swears he can see something flicker in her eyes that means she gets it. "Anyway, uh, it looks like Hillard was just…"

"Using me to have an in with the unit," she gathers, shaking her head. "Fuck." She runs her nails through her hair and folds her arms again, biting her lip as she says, "He found out what case we were working on, flipped when I wouldn't talk about it, and was afraid that we could connect everything to him and his pal, DiMartino. So he hires Briscoe. Tries to kidnap me, hoping to distract the unit long enough for Silas to finish tying off the loose ends."

Elliot nods and looks over his shoulder at Tucker. "Sums it up," he says, and turns back to her with a softer look and less gravelly voice. "That's what Cragen thinks, too, but he knows, uh, if that's the case, DiMartino won't talk to either of us and technically it's a conflict of interest. He had a hand in someone trying to hurt you, so if I go in there, I'm gonna Kill him and you'll have to arrest me."

She cracks a smile and nods and then looks over at Tucker. "You get all that?" She tilts her head and waits.

Tucker chuckles and nods. "Yeah, Liv," he licks his lips and shoves his hands into his pockets, leans up against the wall, and says, "I got it. Go. Go home, both of you. I'll wait here for Cabot and Cragen, and trust me, Dimartino and Hillard…" he nods at them and rubs his lips together for a moment. "They'll both get what's coming to them. I promise." He looks even more severely into Olivia's eyes. "I told you, I'm on your side."

Olivia sighs and closes her eyes, nodding, giving him the benefit of the doubt. She mumbles a "Thanks" as she moves toward the door, leading Elliot out of the pit. She grabs her jacket and doesn't wait for him to say or do anything; she leaves the squadroom and jets toward the stairs.

"Chinese?" he asks, running after her, throwing his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time to match her bullet speed. "Or pizza? We haven't had a decent pizza since before we went up to the…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" She looks back at him but keeps moving, knowing if she stops she's going to kiss him again and it's a risk she can't take. A risk she shouldn't have taken on the roof, and sure as fuck can't take now. She elbows the door open, and for a moment she expects to see Kathy there, a constant fear recently, but sighs in relief when no one is in the alley.

He grabs her hand as soon as they're officially out of the building, and he grins at her smugly. "I am talking about dinner. I'm starving, and if we order now, it'll almost be there by the time we get home, and we won't have to wait too long to eat." He smiles at her again and then lifts their clasped hands to his mouth. He kisses each of her knuckles, looking into her eyes, something he did regularly during their stint upstate, something he's wanted to do since they came home.

Shivers run down her spine, settling between her legs, and she stares back at him, trying not to whimper. "You…"

He nods, knowing what she's about to say, but not willing to let her speak it. He sighs and juts his chin forward as he starts to move, walking with her toward the end of the lot. "I could get used to this," he says, staring up at the night sky. He can't see too many stars, but the ones in sight blink brightly at him as if welcoming him to a new world.

"Used to what?" Her questions comes out in a whisper, and she's trying to figure out what the hell he's staring at. There are no planes or copters in the sky, it's a cloudless night, and he doesn't strike her as the kind of guy who hunts for UFOs.

He inhales, and for a moment everything is fresh and calming. Sure, he smells the distinct city odors of old fish and wet garbage, but there's something beneath it all that makes him smile. "Walking home with you," he says to her. "Holding your hand, and," he pauses, and he stops walking. He turns to her, wrapping his other arm around her to keep her from moving. "Kissing you," he whispers, and he moves before she can dodge him.

Her free hand slips up to the side of his face, gently encasing it as she kisses him back, her mind flooding with thoughts of his four kids waiting for him at home, Kathy knowing he isn't showing up, and she realizes she's letting him control this, following his lead. "El," she mumbles against his lips, "What about…"

He pulls away and swipes the pad of his thumb delicately over her lips. "Stevenson says I've got a pretty good shot at getting joint custody. I can file for full, uh, once we have a house with at least five bedrooms. For right now, at least, I'm not worried about my kids."

"I wasn't gonna ask about the kids," she confesses, and instantly his mood shifts. His face falls, his hands drop, and though he's still holding hers as he pulls her along, he's stiff and fast and he's breathing through his nose. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you…"

"Chinese or pizza?" he asks, cutting her off, needing to change the subject because the thought of Kathy makes him want to throw up; he'd almost convinced himself he was married to Olivia and just when he lets it become his new normal, she snaps him back into the harsh hell that is his reality.

"Pizza," she says, but then she gives a hard yank on his hand and says, "You can't just expect me to act like everything is fucking lollipops and rainbows." She watches as he stops and turns, his wide eyes narrowing. "Look, I love you, you know that, but what you're asking, here, is...this is fucking insane, and…"

"And you want it as much as I do!" He's yelling at her, he knows he is, and he's not going to apologize for it. He gives her a slight push, bringing them under a halogen street lamp. With a huff, he untangles his fingers from hers so he can grip her face with both of his hands. "If I had any fucking doubt in my mind that this is what you want, I wouldn't be…" he squints and his nostrils flare once, and as she blinks at him, he smirks. He's on her immediately, his mouth prying hers open.

She moans as her hands fly to his back. Her body wobbles but his arms tighten and she stabilizes, finding solid ground in his hold. He's right and it kills her. She wants this more than anything, without any of the guilt she should be feeling because of how this started, how it's happening. She feels the post of the streetlight hit her back and she knows he's moved them forward. His name builds on her tongue as she feels his hands moving down her body.

One of his hands comes to rest on her ass, the other presses up against her clit through her clothes and he growls because his only other option is to cry. He mumbles something to her but it's caught up in their deep, frenzied kiss. Suddenly, the angel on his shoulder slaps the sense back into him and reminds him they're on a busy street in Midtown, they're under a streetlight, they'll need to cuff each other if they take things any further. He pants heavily as he pulls his mouth off of hers and he nods. "You do," he whispers, "don't you? You want it, right? The life...the life we had...that we know, we can still have?"

She still has her hands on either side of his face, her eyes are holding onto his, and she sees clear anguish in them, but it's mixed with hope and love and she nods and kisses him softly, once. "Order the pizza," she whispers to him, and she makes the first move to head further down the street toward her apartment. She hooks her fingers around his and she hears him give a relieved sigh when she squeezes.

As they walk, she can hear him talking to the pizza guy, ordering two pies with toppings they both love, and as she smiles. Her eyes wander around, taking in the city. The brick and mortar buildings, iron fences and metal security gates over the doors and windows of closed shops, street vendors haggling with their customers as taxis and buses whiz by them. It reminds her of what she was thinking about back at the station. How different her life could have turned out if she'd wanted anything more or less than what she really had. She glances over at Elliot, who's about to end his call, and she takes a deep breath.

There's no ebb of guilt, there's no rising tide of anxiety, there's only love and the reason why she wouldn't trade her life for anything else in the world. She blinks and he's off the phone, staring out at the path in front of them, like it's the only thing he's ever seen.

Maybe it is.

She wonders if he's always thought of them as married, if he's always loved her, if he's always known she's easy to live with because they want and need the same things and they're more compatible than peanut butter and jelly. It's something she wonders because she doesn't want to be the only one who's felt that way for longer than necessary. She follows his lead as he turns a corner, taking them down her street, but there's a blurry figure on the sidewalk in front of her building.

He feels her slow at the same time he does, more of a reason to believe they're cut from the same cloth, and he knows her right hand is doing the same his left is, reaching for their guns without letting go of each other. "Who…" he squints until he's close enough to see the details and he gasps and pulls her into the shrubbery of a neighboring building.

"Christ," she spits harshly, "what the fuck are you…" his hand covers her mouth and she momentarily contemplates licking his palm. If he's going to be a four-year-old about it, she'll gladly play along. She raises one eyebrow and sees him mouth, "That's Kathy," and she says something that his skin catches.

He furrows his brow and bites the inside of his cheek. "You really want to deal with her right now? Listen to her bitch and moan about how you were supposed to talk me into going back to her, yet you're holding my hand and, literally, taking me home?"

She quirks her brow harder, then chuckles when he rolls his eyes and removes his hand. "I would like to be home when the pizza comes, so yes." She sees the genuine animosity in his eyes, his refusal to be near the woman from whom he's been legally separated for four hours. "Okay, okay, fine. Go around the block, there's a back door to the building. I'll go...tell her you're...somewhere else."

He kisses her, slowly and deeply, and he briefly wonders if they should test how well-hidden they are behind the bushes. He grunts and tugs on his tightened pants as he bolts toward the other side of the yard.

Olivia laughs at how much of a typical male he can be as she moves back out onto the sidewalk. She smooths out her shirt and jacket as she heads toward her apartment building, and when Kathy eyes her, she waves meekly. "He's not here, so…"

"He's not with you?" Kathy questions, honestly surprised. "So you talked to him? Is he coming home?" Her eyes are wide with anticipatory hope and her smile seems almost childlike in its naivety. She sees the dark look on Olivia's face and her entire body sinks lower. "No, of course, you didn't talk to him. I just...do you know where he is?"

Olivia runs her eyes over Kathy, the usually well put together woman is wearing a pair of sweatpants with the name of some obscure private school printed down the leg, a tank top that's seen better days, and a long coat that was probably Elliot's at one point. "What happened?" She's panic-stricken because she knows there's no way Kathy would risk anyone seeing her like this unless there was no way around it. "Are the kids okay?"

"Fine, they're...they're fine." Kathy runs a hand down the length of her blonde ponytail and she takes a sharp breath. "I need him, Olivia. I know you don't think I do because of what I've done, but I need to be his wife, that's the only thing that makes sense to me, don't you understand that?"

Olivia narrows her eyes, her pangs of sympathy now turned to rage. "If that was true, you would never have…"

Kathy gives a short chortle, sopping Olivia's words. "Oh, good, the poster child for casual sex is gonna give me a lesson on morals and monogamy." She shakes her head and says, "I was filling a need. Isn't that what you always told Elliot when he asked why you never got serious with one of your boyfriends? At least I can count on one hand how many men helped me fill the void."

Elliot speaks up, having heard everything from his post a few feet behind Kathy. He'd decided to man up and face the woman, but now, after listening to her treat Olivia like some sort of trollop, he can't be civil. "Fucking excuse me?"

Kathy turns at the same Olivia's eyes widen, and both women lightly gasp. "Elliot!" Kathy yelps, and she moves to him, but he stops her with a held up hand.

"Don't you dare," he sneers as he speaks, "Don't you ever say anything like that about her again. She is not a slut, and fuck you for even comparing her to what you fucking did! She was a single woman with every right in the fucking world to date whoever the hell she wanted, and you were married! To me! That's a big fucking difference, and the fact that you can't handle the fucking embarrassment that comes along with doing what you did is not my fucking fault!" He holds out his hand in Olivia's direction and he holds his breath until she slips her fingers between his. Once they're locked, he shoots an intensely hateful glare back at Kathy. "I'm picking up the kids tomorrow night."

Kathy gulps and nods. "I know, your lawyer called," she says, and she retreats, seeing their joined hands is more than she can handle. With another hard swallow, she slips into her sedan and drives away, hoping they can't see her cry through the windows as she does.

Elliot lets out a single breath through his nose and he tries to wipe the hate off of his face before looking at Olivia. "Pizza's here," he says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder where he's left the boxes on the stoop.

She runs her tongue over her lips and nods once, and then kisses his cheek. "Come on," she says gently, tugging his hand. "We'll eat and...well, I could use a nice, hot shower, but if you…"

"Together, right?" He wags his brows at her and all thoughts of Kathy and lawyers and work are gone from his mind, the focus now on getting her where he needs her, as soon as possible.

**A/N: Where does he want her? Does he get her there? And how do the kids handle a day with their father and Olivia?**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **_**Even the fearless, have one thing they can't face fearlessly. **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Damn," Elliot says, chewing, "I fucking missed good pizza." He looks over to her and smiles, swallows, and gives her a playfully taunting look. "Remember the pizza we ordered the first night at that house?"

She pulls the crust out of her mouth as she makes an aggressively unhappy noise and rolls her eyes. "God," she begins with a mouthful. "Tasted like basil and cardboard." She tosses the crust into the empty box and wipes her hands together, dry flour and crumbs fly into the air.

He grabs one of her hands, the expression on his face changes when she turns to look at him, and now his smile is warm and beseeching. He runs the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, holding her gaze, and his voice drops an octave as he asks, "Do you remember...what happened after we ate?"

Her eyes close at his words. Of course, she fucking remembers, it's the climactic scene of every dream she has now, it's a memory that's so real that she actually fucking cums when she thinks about it. "Yeah," she whispers, not because of the intimacy of the moment, but because her throat has gone completely dry, her tongue is numb.

He slides over to her, still holding her hand, and he pulls her up slightly to the point where his lips were just barely brushing hers, and he softly says, "It wasn't just because he watching us," and he moves that final millimeter closer and kisses her. "Nothing that happened between us was just because he was watching us." He kisses her again, as if the action proves his words true.

Beneath the oregano and tomato, garlic and onion, she tastes him. Something so purely him, it's impossible not to recognize. Her hands move to the back of his head and she moans, but the lower half of her body backs away, still running on the instinct to escape and stop this from happening.

He senses it and his right hand moves fast, presses against the small of her back and guides her forward until she's flush against him, and he whispers, "Please, don't run from me. Not now. Not...ever." He knows she's scared because so is he. He's more terrified now than he has been in his entire fucking life. "Please?"

Again she is silent. She has no words because she can't breathe. Her heart and head are in a battle to the death, they're both pounding and fighting for the win, but she kisses him and sets into motion her heart's victory. Her eyes are closed, her arms are wrapped around him so tightly it's a wonder that he can move at all.

But move he does, lifting her off of the couch and into his arms. Still kissing her, he follows the path written by memory to her bathroom, kicks the door open, and sets her down on the bath mat.

"What are you do…" his lips cut off her words again. She feels his hands pulling at her clothes. She shivers as the cool air in the room hits newly exposed bare skin as he slides down her pants. She moans softly, feeling his fingertips graze the curves of her hips, her bare ass, her back, and she gasps when he tugs hard on her shirt, popping all of the buttons at once. Then she remembers. This is something he'd done every night in their house upstate when he was pretending to be her devoted husband, and she briefly asks herself if he's pretending now, or if it's something he's truly let himself believe. In an instant, she has the answer.

He moves his lips from her mouth, kissing a small trail along her jawline, down her neck, until he meets her pulse. He feels it thumping powerfully beneath his tongue and he moans because it sparks the memory of the same exact feeling from another part of her body, and that's when he decides it's something he needs to feel again. Now. He reaches around her back and unhooks her bra, it drops without much coercion, and his hands move to cup her breasts. He spreads his fingers and so softly runs the centers of his palms over her nipples to harden them and drive her crazy.

She whimpers and her fingers curl, digging into his shoulder blades. "Elliot," she whispers on a breathless moan, her head tilting to allow his mouth more access to her throat. She's unconsciously egging him on, needing to relive this moment, praying it won't end as abruptly as it did the last time: he'd gotten her to this very spot, about to take her under a stream of hot water, and just before things could get steamy, they had to stop and run to chase their mark. There's no mark, now. She knows what he's doing.

He doesn't break contact with her skin; one hand flies to his left to turn the knobs, starting the water. He instinctively knows when to stop turning, keeping the water hot but not scalding, and it tells him that he's spent so much time with her at her apartment that he knows the little things.

In her haze, she tries to open her eyes and runs her hands down his chest, surprised to find it bare. He's managed to get his clothes off while he was undressing her, and it makes her eyes roll and close again; his body is the thing mythologists use to inspire their writings of Greek gods, she's fucking sure of it.

He finally lifts his head, smirking at the nicely shaped, purple mark he's made on her neck. His brand. She's his. He finds her eyes and looks into them as if he's trying to tell her his darkest secrets. He takes her hands and pulls gently, coaxing her over the edge of the tub, into. He keeps his eyes on hers as he stretches his right hand behind him to twist the dial, stopping the faucet and turning on the shower.

The water is cold, at first, making them both jump and laugh, but once it heats, they're thrown back into the seriousness of the moment. Her eyes wander over his body, taking in his incredibly muscular chest and arms, his powerful legs, and she begs herself not to blush as she stares at the weapon between his thighs. She's seen it before, but this time, things are different. She smirks, now knowing he's always had a right to be arrogant, and she brings her eyes back up to meet his.

He grins at her; he knows she's been staring, he knows why. He's been gazing at her perfect curves and pert nipples, and beautiful legs. He's been eyeing her amazing ass, and of course, he's been looking at the waxed, silky, hot, wet juncture of her thighs. He licks his lips and moves closer to her. "You know I haven't been…"

"If you were," she cuts him off, knowing where the conversation is going, "She wouldn't have been cheating on you." Her hands fly to his face and she swallows hard as she searches his eyes for any sign of fear or doubt. Seeing none, she smiles. "It's been about…"

"Three years," he whispers, and he kisses her again. He's exaggerating, but it proves his point as he blindly searches out her shampoo bottle, but before he starts washing her hair, there's something else he feels he must do. He kisses and licks his way down her body. When he dips his tongue into her belly button, she moans his name, and it makes him move faster. He sinks to his knees, the water is falling over his head and into his eyes but right now he doesn't give a shit. He's getting what he wants, what he needs, and giving her what he knows she's been aching for since they got back from the case that changed everything.

Her head flies back into the tiled wall the moment his tongue swipes up her slit. "Jesus Christ," she breathes, and it feels foreign and familiar all at once, something different in the way he devours her now, but somehow exactly the same.

He chuckles and starts moving his tongue into her deeper, long strokes up and down. She tastes even better than he remembers, he knows it's because she's really his now. He slides his hands to her ass, holding her in place and forcing her tighter against his mouth.

"Oh, my God, Elliot," she whimpers, bucking against his working tongue. Her hands are wound in his short hair and she can't help needing more.

He is in Heaven; he moans and growls as he works his tongue even deeper, thrusting it, fucking her with it, claiming her. His eyes roll as he gives one long, deep, lick. He pulls away and glances up at her, and he licks his lips and moans as he uses the fingers of his right hand to spread her open. He licks her again, twice, before flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit.

She's breathing quickly in short gasps, and she's clawing at the back of his head more frantically. She can feel her legs wobbling, the muscles in them weakening. "Oh, my God," she cries, and her body buckles as she cums.

He groans and growls, still working her with his mouth, licking up every intoxicating bit she's giving him now. He braces her, keeping her from falling, and he slows his strokes as she slows her thrusts. He lets her fall gently, her feet back onto the tub's floor, and he kisses her everywhere he can reach as he slowly stands.

She's still panting as he moves in to kiss her; still cumming. There are thoughts she can't give voice to, things she's still afraid to say unsure of how they'll land. He's just brought her back to the house upstate, and it convinces her that he's fucking sure about what he's doing. Wordlessly, she falls into him and feels his arms wrap around her.

He feels the water cooling slightly and knows he needs to move fast now. He bends to pick up the bottle of shampoo, and he feels her hands moving toward his incredible erection. He smirks as he squeezes a dollop into his palm, and he sets the bottle back on a shelf and the rubs his hands together. He starts massaging her scalp and building the shampoo into a lather as he says, "Don't," and kisses her cheek. "You don't have to, that's not why I…"

She kisses him and then grins and moans, loving the way he makes her feel in every single way, and she shakes her head as she strokes him. "We were always being watched, constantly stopped. I never got to see you…"

He interrupts her the same way she had, he kisses her hard as he quickly runs his shampoo covered hands through his own hair, and then he pulls her under the stream of water, rinsing the foam and suds out of her hair as she slowly tugs and caresses and he can't take the teasing anymore; he starts thrusting into her hand, moaning her name. He's been fantasizing about this for years, and it's more incredible than he'd imagined it would be.

She strokes him harder, shocked at the feeling of him beginning to throb in her hand, and she's desperate to watch his eyes, his face, as he cums. One of her arms hooks around his neck, her lips and teeth toy with his left earlobe, and she whispers, "Let go."

"Never," he says with a chuckle, shaking his head, and he kisses her again. "Never fucking letting you go," he whispers on a growl as he wraps his right hand around hers and gets her to tighten her grip, guiding her to jerk him faster. "Fuck," he hisses, and his resolve is wearing thin, he knows he's close. "Baby, please...harder..." he commands softly, his lip catches between his teeth as he grunts.

"Elliot," she whispers into his ear, and she bites and tugs on his lobe again just before moving to kiss him. She catches his grunts in her mouth and feels his dick throb and pulse as he cums for her. She moans against his lips and pulls back fast, needing to watch his face, see it all happen. She's amazed, intrigued, fascinated by the way his mouth twists as he curses and moans her name, the way his eyes open wide to stare at her as he bucks and writhes with a dropped jaw. There are a thousand emotions crossing over his face as he's wracked with absolute torturous pleasure, because she's still stroking hard and fast.

His stomach clenches as he shoots and spurts, the shower washing it all away almost immediately. He moves, then, grabbing for her and kissing her deeply. He assumes there's just enough lukewarm water left to do what he's brought her in here to do, and he grabs her body wash, squirts some into his hands.

She moans as his fingers delve into the crevices and curves of her body, washing away the fears and discordances she's been harboring for too long. "El," she speaks softly, and when his head pops up and he smiles at her in that self-assured way, she forgets what she was going to say and she kisses him. Her body sways as he moves to turn off the colder water, but the kiss doesn't break, doesn't end.

He's the first to pull away and he swipes his hands over her wet hair, pushing it out of her eyes. He inhales, the steam and scent of her coconut shampoo filling his lungs, and it takes a moment to realize that there's no federal agent knocking on the door, there's no sociopath watching them through the window, there's nothing to worry about. He leans forward and kisses her again, and he says, "I love you."

Her heart stops. She believes him. "I love you," she says, giving a small shrug. She watches him slip open the curtain and grab two large, fluffy towels off the rack, and she chuckles when he wraps her up in one of them. "What are we doing?" She tilts her head. "I mean, everything...the pizza, the bushes, the shower…this?" She wipes her face with a bit of the towel.

"Isn't obvious?" He smirks as he wraps his blue towel around his waist and steps out of the tub onto the bath mat. He holds out his hands for her and when she sets her palms on top of his, he says, "You know damn well what we're doing." He kisses her temple and whispers, "I'm not taking baby steps, here, and I need you to be…"

"Right there with you," she nods, and she kisses his cheek before nudging him toward the door. As he moves, she watches his body, she knows what's hidden behind that towel and she knows he has no intention of putting any clothes on before crawling into bed with her, and it floods her mind with the million ways the night could end. She looks down at the rings on her left hand, her stomach flips a bit, and she follows in his damp footsteps.

Along the way, she notices things: the carpet feels fluffier beneath her feet, the walls are a brighter shade of white, the air in the apartment is somehow cleaner because she's finally breathing easier, and when she steps into her bedroom, she watches with open and eager eyes as he stands right in front of her and drops the towel.

He moves a hand and pulls hers away, dropping it on top of his, and then takes her hand in his and pulls her toward the bed. He throws down the covers, letting her in first, and he wraps his naked body around hers as he yanks the pull switch on the lamp and settles the quilt over them. He sighs, and then he grumbles something about needing to move after he's just gotten comfortable. He kisses the back of her head and pops out of the bed.

He heads into the hall toward the living room, running a hand down his face, and he laughs because in a few weeks, he won't be able to roam around the place stark naked, his kids will be here. It's something he hasn't told Olivia, but he thinks he doesn't have to tell her, she's just supposed to know.

He spies what he's come for, between pizza crusts and soda cans, and he grabs the badges, guns, and cell phones, flipping his around in his hand. "Christ," he gripes, seeing that he has twelve missed calls and eighteen text messages from Kathy. He read only enough to find out if it's an emergency involving his kids, and then deletes them without reading, without listening to the voicemails, and he heads back into the bedroom where his life, he thinks, is about to really begin.

That is, if he can keep it from all falling apart first.

**A/N: Will he tell Olivia about his kids staying with her? How are things at work? And how do the kids handle a day with their father and Olivia? **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **_**London Bridge is falling down...and so are we. **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Morning, gang," Elliot chirps, stifling a yawn as he reloops the Windsor knot in his tie. He's smirking as the silk swirls around in his fingers; he remembers why he had to take it off in the first place, and he's fucking thankful that his collar is high enough to hide the purple heart-shaped mark Olivia's lips left on his neck. "What have we…"

His words stop dead; his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. His jaw tightens like a stripped screw and he barely breathes as he spits out, "Kathy."

"I'm sorry," the blonde stands and rushed to him, her arms reaching out. She retreats when he backs away and she sighs as she speaks. "You didn't pick up any of my calls, you never answered my texts, I knew I couldn't call Olivia. I needed to talk to you, see you, so I...I came here."

"Really bad fucking timing," he snaps at her, and he pushes by her to get to her desk, and he sends a look over his shoulder toward Olivia, who looks almost as murderous as he does. "We have a lot of work to do." His eyes follow as his partner flies toward her side of the twin desks.

"Handle this first," Olivia fires at him, pulling off her jacket and tossing it over the back of her chair. She heads to the back of the squadroom, picking up the coffee pot and pouring a full cup before drinking it in one long sip. The last person she needed to see this morning was Kathy. She scoffed with a bitter smile on her face as she spotted Kathy, out of the corner of her eye, pleading with Elliot.

"What's that all about?" Fin whispers from beside her. He leans against the table and crosses his arms, staring in Elliot and Kathy's direction.

"No clue," she lies, and she pours herself another cup of coffee, this time adding the cream and sweetener she skipped over before, "I'm staying out of that mess."

"Don't blame ya," Fin chuckles. He nudges her with an elbow and lowers his voice. "Some fed was here last night, lookin' for ya. Somethin' you need to fill me in on?"

She raises an eyebrow and sips from her cup. "What was his name?"

"Didn't ask," Fin says, and he nods in the direction of his desk. "Gave me his card and told me to tell you to call him."

She rolls her eyes, immediately knowing who it is and what he wants, and she scoffs as she says, "I have his number, I'm not calling him." She sips her coffee again and asks, "What's up around here? I know we're late, so what did…"

"Nothin' yet," Fin cuts in, still staring over at Elliot and Kathy, who are now practically snarling at each other like angry wolves. "Cragen ain't here."

Olivia looks at him with narrow eyes, her cup resting mid-sip on her lips. One brow quirks. The cup lowers. "What?"

Fin laughs, he can't help but think she looks cute when she's confused, and he says, "Yeah, no sign of him, yet, I been here for over an hour." He shrugs, but a loud slap turns his attention back toward Elliot.

Olivia's head whips around, too, because it was a fucking loud slap, and she widens her eyes as she finds Elliot, red-cheeked and laughing lowly, shaking his head and licking his lips. She watches him as he speaks.

"Get out," he tells the woman who is still legally his wife, and his nostrils flare. "Now."

Kathy shakes her head and says, "Any other man would kill to have what I'm offering, here, Elliot." She runs a hand down the front of her floral printed sheath dress and tugs at her coat hard.

"Yeah, well," Elliot shrugs, "I've never been much like other men. Go, before I have a couple of these guys escort you out." He stares her down, his blue eyes darken in anger as he remains unblinking.

Kathy wordlessly stiffens and then moves, heading out of the squadroom, looking over her shoulder in hopes that Elliot will look at her one last time. He doesn't. She lowers her gaze and rushes down the hall before anyone else can see her crying again.

Elliot lets out another bitter chuckle as he rubs the side of his face. "Shit," he hisses. "Bruises were just starting to heal." He laughs again and yells over to Olivia. "Pour me a cup of that, would ya?"

Fin looks confused, almost cluelessly so, as he brushes by Olivia, who is, in fact, pouring Elliot's coffee. He reaches Elliot's desk and sends a concerned look around the room. "What the hell was that all about?" He lowers his voice slightly and adds, "I think the whole unit saw that."

Elliot licks his lips, flinching as he tastes the blood from his re-opened split lip. Apparently, Kathy's fingers pulled at his mouth when she slapped him. "She can't handle the fact that I won't call my lawyer and tell him to shred the divorce papers," he says, and he chuckles again. "And I may have called her something she didn't exactly like." He turns and takes the coffee he knows Olivia is holding out for him, sips it, and winks at her with a smile that says more than anyone could possibly understand. "Thanks."

She folds her arms and asks the question that she knows Fin's been thinking. "What did you say to her?" She reaches halfway to his bruised and reddened cheek before realizing the impropriety of it. Dropping her arm, she says, "If they didn't see it, they heard it. She hit you pretty hard."

Elliot licks his lips again, and he scratches the back of his head as he shakes it. "I was outta line, I get it, but she insulted…" his eyes drift toward Olivia, and he smiles again. She's tough as nails, but he's seen the softer sides. She can take a hit, throw a punch, do a backflip, yet be nurturing and healing and the one who dresses wounds. She holds her breath when she walks past cemeteries out of respect for the dead, but she's the one who breathes life into his world. Fuck, he loves her. He realizes he's been silent, mid-sentence, for quite some time, and he finishes his thought. "She insulted you, so I insulted her."

"As long as no one's insulting me," Cragen's voice calls into the room as he enters, taking off his coat and hat, "And no, I'm not telling you where I was, don't ask."

"Wasn't going to, Jefe," Elliot responds, turning. "Everything okay?"

Cragen holds up a hand as he steps toward the center of the room. "I told you not to…"

"I didn't ask where you were," Elliot counters quickly. "Cap?"

"Fine," Cragen nods with a low sigh, and he pushes up his sleeves and looks at Fin. "You and Munch, take this one," he hands Fin a small, yellow piece of paper. He turns to Elliot, exhales again, and points over his shoulder. "You and Benson, in my office."

Elliot looks at Ovie as he chugs the rest of his coffee, and then turns toward Cragen again. "What, uh, how are we already…"

"Elliot," Cragen's voice is tired, his eyes are half closed, "Just go," he slumps over a bit as he moves and he knows Olivia and Elliot are following him. He opens his door and heads for his chair, plopping into it and running his hand down his face.

Olivia looks in his direction and realizes his clothes are wrinkled, his shirt is stained and she isn't sure if it's black coffee or something more nefarious, and she swears he's wearing the same pants as the day before, and it concerns her. "What's wrong?" she asks, and she sits immediately because she knows there's something very wrong.

Cragen's eyes turn up, he shifts a few things around on his desk as he watches Elliot sit and shift his chair closer to Olivia's, and he says, "The two of you...have been asked by some pretty important people...to take this case. I told them it's my call, if you take it, I''' support it, if you don't want to...I won't force you and they can…"

"What are you talking about?" Elliot speaks, narrowing his eyes. "Are we being asked to assassinate the president or something?"

Cragen cracks a smile, and he thanks God at the moment for Elliot's humor and the relationship he has with the two detectives in front of him. "No, uh, something more...personal." He pulls a folded pink paper out of his pocket, holds it out, and waits for one of them to take it. He bites his lip when Elliot's fingers pull at the paper, he closes his eyes when Olivia leans into him and they unfold it.

Two audible gasps, muffled curses, a loud "What the fucking fuck?" from Elliot, and a "Damn right, we're taking this," from Olivia fire through the air in rapid succession.

Cragen relaxes and looks at them. "Thought you might," he says, and then he folds his hands and licks his lips. "Your first job, then, Elliot...go get your kids out of there. Take them to lunch, take them home, call Kathy and…"

"The kids are with me," Elliot spits out without thinking. "I, uh...me and Kathy…" he clears his throat because he can see that Olivia's eyes are bulging out of her skull. "Kathy and I are getting divorced, and I get my kids on the weekends for a couple of weeks until...until it's longer than the weekends." He presses his lips together and shrugs. "It's fine, uh, we got someone who can watch them on Saturdays, but Sundays...we need to…"

"We?" Cragen smirks. His detectives think they're so slick.

Elliot clears his throat again. "I'm staying with Liv until I find...someplace...else...look, we gotta go get my kids, and then question every teacher in the building." He shoots to his feet and nods at Cragen. "Want us to call the other parents?"

"No, uh, not...not until we have enough to prove these claims are valid," Cragen replies, "I'm breaking protocol by letting you get your kids out of there, as it is." He waves them off, and grins slightly as he watches both of them run their left hands down their faces, he sees their rings, and he shakes his head. "Go."

Elliot nods then pulls Cragen's door open, holding it for Olivia to go out first. When it's closed behind him, he leans into her. "I was gonna tell you about the kids when we…"

"What am I supposed to feed them?" she asks, staring at him with an irritated expression.

He tilts his head. There are a million other questions she could have asked. Where are they gonna sleep? Why didn't he ask her first? What would they say about being at her place? What will they think of them practically being married? He smiles at her. "That...that's all you're worried about?"

She pulls her coat back on and says, "You know I love your kids, you've all stayed at my place before, but never...never like this. Not for...not for reasons like this." She flips her hair up and out of her coat collar and whips the keys off of Elliot's desk. "I don't have anything to make them for dinner. Or breakfast."

"So we'll go out," he laughs. "You're not mad at me? You're not…"

"Don't kiss me," she says suddenly, pointing at him with one finger. She's ignoring his question because she isn't sure if she's mad. She's too confused and panic-stricken to be mad. There's an almost remorseful look in her eyes.

He pouts slightly but gives a mildly offended hmph. "We're at work, I wasn't planning on…"

"No, I mean...in front of your kids," she interrupts, and she moves fast, heading out into the hall. The more she walks, the angrier she becomes. A man she knows, that her partner trusts to watch over his kids every day, has just been accused of raping and nearly killing one of his students, and the entire department all but demanded they be the ones to take him down. "This is...not what I expected to have to do today?"

"Why would Cragen think we'd refuse this case?" Elliot asks, pushing the button on the wall to signal for the elevator.

"Probably thought you'd want to be the overprotective dad with this one," she looks over at him. "Hits too close to home, maybe he didn't want to force you to have to question your own kids, their friends, teachers…"

"Shit," he seethes, nodding, "I didn't think about any of that, I guess, huh?" The doors open but he doesn't move. He's staring at the floor now. For the first time, he spots the different shades of grey in the tiles.

Olivia swallows hard. She holds out a hand and stops the elevator doors from closing as she whispers to him, "I can take this one solo if you do...want to take the kids home...deal with this on the other side with your wife and…"

"I am dealing with this with my wife," he says suddenly, and he pulls her into the elevator. "My wife is gonna keep me from killing the son of a bitch when we get to the school," he looks into her eyes, "Aren't you?"

The question makes her stiffen. The implication in his words makes her heart pound against her chest like a panicking tiger trying to get out of a cage. She feels her legs twitch with the need to run and hears her mothers voice in the back of her mind criticizing her for not majoring in economics. "I'm not your…"

"Still don't get it, do you?" he chuckles, and knowing it's safe, he leans in and kisses her quickly on her half-open lips. "Baby, that's exactly what you are." He hears the ding, slips out of the elevator as the doors open, and whistles a song that he knows she knows.

The notes hit her ears as she slowly moves to follow him, and her eyes drop to her left hand. She feels the first stone on her path crumble, and she prays that it's a sign she's about to fall, because, for the first time in her life, she knows exactly where she'd land.

In Elliot's arms.

**A/N: Oh….dear...what is happening?**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **_**Sugar, we're going down swinging... **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"This isn't the first time we've heard allegations like this." The school's Vice Principal lets out a heavy and nervously trembling breath. "This is just... the first time we have cause to believe it." She looks up and winces, spotting Elliot looming over her desk, and for the first time, it's not because of his children's academic success or slight misbehavior. "Mister Stabler, I…"

"Detective," he counters, the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Miss Devlin, uh, today, it's Detective Stabler." He scratches his head and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his mind races with questions and the strong need to yell and hit things. "It's illegal for you to gloss over any accusations, you're aware of that, aren't you? Someone came to you about him before, there should have been an investigation."

"There was," Devlin states, her eyes wide. "Internal committee declared it was just a rumor started by a vengeful student, angry at a week's detention." She runs her hands through her hair, and then drags them down the sides of her pale blue skirted suit, blowing out a hard breath through puckered lips. "Maybe I should have pressed harder, but I couldn't believe Mister Vollatare could do such things. He's always been so professional, so kind to our students, like a father."

Olivia grinds her teeth behind her closed mouth, staring at the woman. Elliot always talks about her, when he speaks of school and his kids, but something about her seems off, not like the way Elliot had described at all. She tilts her head and tries to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, but she just can't bring herself to do it. "Just because he puts on a good show at work doesn't make him a good man," she speaks, "And New York State law mandates that you report any accusation or suspicion of abuse such as this directly to us, there should never have been an internal investigation in the first place." She feels a burn behind her eyes and nose, her concern not for the reputation of the school but for the welfare of Elliot's children.

Devlin narrows her eyes. "We don't exactly have the budget for being fined for making a false claim," she snaps. "Rockland Elementary had to fork over a thousand bucks for calling an ambulance when one of their students fell down the stairs because there was nothing more than a bump on his knee." She slams a hand down. "This city finds every which way to milk schools out of money, does absolutely nothing to fund them...I have teachers who spend half their paychecks on the supplies and resources that our district should be providing for us! You expect me to take the chance of losing the little money we do have because we wasted the NYPD's valuable time?"

Elliot drops a hand to Olivia's shoulder, keeping her from attacking the woman behind the desk, and he squeezes in an effort to calm her down. "With all due respect, Miss Devlin, in cases like this, the city wouldn't have charged you a damn thing." He hums, lets go of Olivia, and says, "But now, if we find out that he's guilty, that he did this...the school will be charged...and not just money." He eyes the woman and leans over slightly, and he says, "Now, I need to know when the first complaint came in, who made it, how many others you're keeping from us, and if you personally knew that any of those allegations were true, if you knew Vollatare laid as much as a finger on these little girls, you will be charged with obstruction and accessory to assault, and if the girl dies, murder."

Devlin's eyes widen even more and she blinks at him. "Of course I...I didn't know, I…" she shakes her head and looks down at her desk. "These children are my whole world, I would never just stand on the sidelines and let someone hurt them."

Olivia shoots out of her seat and shakes her head disdainfully. "By not reporting the first complaint," she says, "That's exactly what you did." She checks her watch and mumbles a stiff curse, then heads for the door. "I have to call the hospital."

Elliot watches her go, knowing why and loving her even more for it, and then he looks back down at Devlin. "You need to tell me everything," he says, and he sits in Olivia's vacated chair and pulls out a small notebook. He leans back and while waiting for Devlin to start talking, he looks around the office. Certifications and degrees line the walls, the shelves are littered with awards and plaques. There is a slew of hand-drawn and colored pictures pinned on a large cork board, photos of students, thank you cards and friendly notes, and Elliot spots one written by his daughter, Kathleen. It breaks his heart.

The litany of facts and excuses Devlin gives him makes his head spin, and by the time their conversation is over, he's got three missed calls from Olivia, and a long and angry text message telling him that four more girls have come forward, two claim to have photographic evidence of his abuse. He cringes as he walks down the hall, passing his twins' classroom, and he rubs his eyes and sighs, defeat and fury dowsing him. "Liv," he calls, spotting his partner near a water fountain. "We gotta go talk to…"

"I know," she spits, "That's why I was calling you." She bites her lip and scoffs. "Six girls, now. Six. And two of them have proof." She turns and punches the wall, cursing under her breath as she realizes cement hurts, and through a clenched jaw, she says, "If I found out he hurt one of your girls…"

"Our girls," he wraps a hand around the back of her neck and rubs away as much tension as he can, and then he whispers. "We'd get away with it, ya know." He hears her chuckle and he says, "Come on, we need to go talk to these other parents." He lowers his hand, hooking it around her hip, and he pulls her toward the front doors of Saint Patrick's Academy. He has her almost to the car before he pulls her close and kisses her, moaning softly, and as he backs away, he exhales. "He didn't touch the kids, they would have told us. And he's terrified of me because I'm a cop, he knows I'd kill him. I have absolute faith in that," he tells her, and he kisses her forehead.

"I know you do," she replies, and she walks with him toward the car. She knows his faith has always been strong, stronger than hers that's for damn sure, and she wishes she could be as sure as he is. She stares at him as he unlocks their Ford, the way his suit wrinkles when he moves and he smooths it out just as quickly tells her he's always aware of himself. She licks her lips as she thinks back to the morning, the way they'd gotten to the station early and spent twenty minutes making out in the car like randy teenagers. His self-assured attitude carries into the bedroom, and she smirks.

She's always been in love with him, she knows it, and the two weeks she'd spent pretending to be his wife made her realize all the more how lost she is without him. She gets into the car, buckles her seatbelt, and sighs, wondering what will happen when his ego fades and he forgives Kathy, when he goes home, when their last kiss really will be their last kiss. She clears her throat to shield the choking sob that escapes as she turns to look at him, unexpectedly meeting his eyes. "You okay?" she asks, and she hopes he can't tell she's been thinking too hard about difficult things.

"No," he says honestly, "None of this is okay." He shakes his head and turns to the front, both hands on the wheel, and then the snap he's been trying to avoid falls like a brick. He slams his palms against the wheel, grunting and cussing, and he feels the heat fill his face as he reddens and steams. "Mother fucking….fuck." He hits the dash with another growl, and then he takes a few deep, slow breaths, remembering that Olivia's right beside him. "This fucking sucks! That's my kids' principal! Their school! That bastard has been to the house!"

"Hey, hey," Olivia soothes, reaching over and grabbing his hand. "You didn't know! No one did! The school was covering shit up for him, and you said it yourself...he wouldn't hurt your kids, he didn't touch them. Relax." She ran her thumb over the side of his palm and tried to smile. "We'll get him. We will nail him to the wall, and we will make the administration of the school sorry they ever pissed off Elliot Stabler." She sees him smile, hears his slight chuckle, and she winks at him.

"See, this…" he points a finger at her, still smiling, and he wags it slightly, "This is why. This is why I love you so fucking much." He sighs and shrugs, and he swipes a hand down the front of his pale blue Oxford. The material feels softer, somehow, even though he's had the shirt for years. "You know how to calm me down, how to bring me back off the edge, keep me grounded." He moves in and his knuckles, still bruised and sore, graze the side of her hip. They brush against the butt of her gun, over her holster and belt and he can feel the grain of the leather under his skin. His senses are heightened around her. "You get me," he whispers, and he rests his hand low on her thigh.

She blushes slightly and turns away, licks her lips and clears her throat, and says, "Okay, back to work, Stabler." She clears her throat and tries to forget that he gives her goosebumps, tries to ignore that his voice alone makes her weak in the knees, a single word from him makes her wet. She's incredibly uncomfortable now and knows that even if they ignored their case and went back to her place, nothing would happen that would satiate her. She's been given only a taste of what he's capable of in the bedroom, and as much as she wants more, it's too soon, and he's still obviously struggling with his not-quite-yet-ex-wife. It drives her crazy, frustrates her, upsets her, worries her, and more than anything else, it convinces her that everything she wants is too far out of reach and she's setting herself up for disappointment.

"Hey," he calls, and she turns to him with a flummoxed smile and crooked brow. He grins because, fuck, she's gorgeous, and he steps up to her with a long exhalation. "I'm serious," he whispers, and he's leaning so close to her he can smell the coffee still lingering on her lips. He stares at her mouth, wanting nothing more than to kiss her, but he knows it's not the time, not the place. "When we dropped the kids off at my brother's, you, uh...you heard Maureen, right? What she said?"

She inhales and her heart stops, her skin freezes. She remembers exactly what Maureen chirped at her when they picked the kids up from school and took them to their uncle's house. She could hear the young girl's voice speak it all again. _We love you, Liv. See you at home. _"Yeah," she says, nodding and turning away from him. "I heard her."

"So, you know, then…" he tries to convince her, make her believe. "They love you almost as much as I do." He kisses her cheek because he absolutely can't help it anymore. "This is gonna work, baby. I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, and I'm not changing my mind about this. You. Us." He takes her hand and runs the pad of his thumb over the stones of her rings. "This." He stares into her eyes for a minute, and he realizes she doesn't believe him. Not completely.

"You've told me," she says, and as he pulls her toward the Ford four-door, she sighs. "Kathy keeps texting me," she tells him. "She's not giving up without a fight, and it looks like she's…"

"Detectives!" Devlin yells from the front doors of the school. "Please, come back!" She closes her eyes as she waves at them frantically. "I...God, I am so sorry, I should have…"

"What is it?" Elliot asks, letting go of Olivia's hand and walking with her toward the frazzled Vice Principal.

Devlin sniffles, trying not to cry, and she says, "Someone needs to give a statement."

Olivia turns her head toward Elliot. "Another victim?" She turns to the woman and steps closer quickly. "A student?"

"No," Devlin says as she shakes her head. "A teacher."

**A/N: The case takes a turn! And so do Olivia and Elliot. Next?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **_**Sugar, we're going down swinging... **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

It's the first time in years that she's made something other than a phone call for dinner; it's a recipe one of her mother's boyfriends taught her how to make in an effort to "Get to know her," and she's confused as to why she even remembers it, but the kids seem to be enjoying it and no one has thrown up, so she's taking it as a win.

She leans back in the large-backed kitchen chair, folds her arms, and smirks. She can be domestic, when she has to, after all. She eyes Elliot, who's chewing eagerly and smiling, and her own grin fades. His life is spiraling out of control and the only reason he's latching onto her the way he is...is because she's the only stable part of his world right now. The texts she gets from Kathy every five minutes prove that his marriage is far from over.

She clears her throat, slides back from the small table, and says, "Excuse me."

Elliot's eyes dart to her as she gets up, and he wipes his mouth with a napkin, swallows hard, and rushes to catch her before she gets too far out of view. "Hey, hey, hey," he babbles, his arms shooting out and his hands wrapping around her arms. "What's the matter?"

She shakes her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she averts her gaze, trying to find something on the wall to focus on because she can't look into his eyes. "Nothing," she coughs, and then she says, "Just have to…"

"Don't lie to me." His voice is low, something dark and desperate in his words. His hands smooth down her arms, his hands tangle with hers, he pleads with every cell in his body as he swivels his head around to find her eyes. "Liv?"

She exhales sharply, a pang of pain hitting and dissipating as her lungs do their job. "Look," she starts, and she makes the mistake of giving him what he wants and meeting his gaze. _Shit. _"Your kids are here. You're avoiding Kathy's calls, I mean, she's actually been trying to talk to you through me, you know that? And when we picked up your kids...your brother actually asked me how long we've been…"

"What did she say to you?" he asks, interrupting her annoyed rant about the awkwardly accurate questions his brother fired at her a few hours ago. He sees something flicker in her eyes, something he's only ever seen when she talks about her mother. He's worried now, because he knows what it means. "Baby?"

She exhales again, a longer breath with less pain and more depression. "She's not okay," she whispers. "I think she's...does she drink? The last few messages sounded…"

"She made this mess," he cuts her off again, and he shoots a glance over toward the tiny table, and he grins when he sees his children cleaning up unasked, not fighting about it. He looks back to Olivia, lowers his voice, and he stares into her eyes as he holds her hands tighter, as if that alone will make his words sink in more. "She fucked up, okay? But she...she did us a favor, because honestly...I don't know how long I would've gone before…"

"You'd have never cheated on her," she counters, and she scoffs.

He smirks wickedly. "Really? You mean, when I couldn't blame the job or claim we were working? Because I may not be an expert in women, I have one failed marriage under my belt and one fucking amazing one that's gonna last the rest of my fucking life, but somewhere in between, they overlapped. We can't...we don't have to deny that anymore." He lets go of one of her hands and runs his fingers through her hair, cups her cheek and pulls her closer. He kisses her, feeling how soft her lips are, marveling at the way her slightly surprised gasp lands on his tongue, tasting her through the remnants of Chicken Cacciatore. He relaxes when she does, and they sink into each other as he moans her name into her mouth.

She moves forward, following his lead, until they're hidden behind one wall and pressed against another. Their kiss is frenzied, fiery. Their hands are clawing at flesh and pulling at fabric and it's only when they hear a shout from the living room that they remember they aren't alone.

"Damn," he seethes, pulling away from her. His hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He squeezes as he drops his head forward, letting it fall into hers. He kisses her again, softly, slowly, and a million and one reasons why he loves her flip like a Rolodex of facts in his mind. He pries his mouth away from hers again, takes a breath, and says, "I love you." He feels her stiffen instantly, and he knows it's only because she isn't used to hearing it. Not from him. He opens his eyes and pulls her tighter when he sees the shock and slight fear in her eyes, hoping she can see how serious he is, how much he means it.

She inhales, her lungs filling with the lingering scent of his cologne. She remembers watching him put it on, standing naked in front of his dresser, and she feels heat wash over her, wondering if it's now a normal part of her life or if she will have to live with only that one memory. She tilts her head, then, and something about the way he's looking at her strikes her dead in the heart. Her body freezes again, numbs, and she says the only thing that makes sense now. "I love you, too."

"Dad!" Kathleen yells as she runs around the corner.

Elliot and Olivia turn to look at her, thankful that they've managed to separate themselves a respectable distance. "Yeah, pumpkin?" He sees that she's already in her pajamas and momentarily wonders how long he and Olivia have been necking against the wall.

"We're all ready for bed, but…" the girl blinks, and then she smiles, "We wanted to know if we could use sleeping bags tonight. Like a campout. Maybe Liv could make the tent the way she did when we stayed with her last time. When you and Mom were…"

"Tent?" Elliot chuckles, folds his arms, amused. He turns his head. "You made the kids a tent?"

"Old sheets and the couch, okay? Nothing revolutionary. I was gonna take them up to the roof to camp out, but it started raining, I didn't want to disappoint them." She shrugs and she looks down at Kathleen, smiling. She brushes her hand through the girl's blonde hair and for the briefest of moments, she feels like her mother. "Sure, sweetie. You know where the sleeping bags are. I'll be there in a minute."

Kathleen giggles. "Kay!" she squeaks, and she skips off to locate the four nylon bags in the hall closet.

It's then that Elliot pulls Olivia back into his arms. "You're amazing," he whispers, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks. He pokes out his tongue and slowly licks the seam of her lips and finally, he kisses her again, slowly, deeply. "So fucking amazing." He swats her on the ass as she moves, and he watches her body sway as she rounds the corner. He follows a few steps behind, looking on as she grabs two folded bedsheets from the closet as Kathleen steps aside.

She closes the closet door with her hip, then tosses the sheets onto the couch before moving the furniture. It all slides easily across the hardwood, but it's still a show of her strength. When she's got the sofa and armchair at just the right angles, she snaps her fingers together, giving the kids their cue to unfurl their sleeping bags.

There's a chorus of laughter and clapping, and when all four little bodies are settled in their wraps on the floor, Olivia lets the sheets fly, spreading them out over the furniture, letting the edges fall like tent flaps on either side of the small group of children. She hears them chuckling and shushing each other, and she steps over to the front door. "Goodnight, guys," she says with a smile, and then she flicks the light switch, bathing the room in darkness but for the city glow filtering in from the windows. She hears four young voices shouting "goodnights" and "I love yous" and "night, Dads"

When she reaches the edge of the room, before rounding the corner, she's grabbed suddenly, picked up and spun around. She feels his lips on hers again, and before she can protest, he's carrying her around the bend, toward the bedroom, through the door. Her skin pebbles with goosebumps as his fingers slip under her clothes, and she thanks God that the lights in the living room are off because she's fairly certain they aren't quite out of view yet.

He ushers her further into the room, kicks the door closed behind him, and he moans as he fumbles for the clasp of her bra beneath her shirt. He gives a victorious chortle when he feels the band spring apart, and he expertly maneuvers her buttons and then whips off her shirt and bra in one smooth swipe. He pauses, looks down at her, taking in the sight of her in his arms, topless, her chest heaving and her lips red and swollen from their kiss. He licks his lips and then nods, as if telling her this is really happening or giving himself the same reassurance. With a slow breath, he leans her over and lays her on the bed, and as she drops he places tender kisses along her jaw, her neck, between her breasts.

Her eyes close and she drags her nails through his short hair, scraping lightly against his scalp. "Elliot," she whispers, and flashes of nights in Syracuse light up the backs of her eyelids. It was wrong, then, despite the situation, and it's wrong now. But, fuck, nothing has ever felt so right. It's why she can't bring herself to stop him, why she'd give anything for him to do this forever.

He kisses his way back up to her mouth, and once he slants his lips over hers, his left hand finds its way into her pants. He crooks his fingers, raking them up and down her hot slit, and he can feel her pulse against his palm. She wants him, she fucking wants him, and that is all he needs to know to spur him on, so he slips his middle finger into her with a groan of her name.

Her back arches. It's only one long, thick finger, but her body reacts to him in ways she'd never known possible. Every ounce of her begs for more, and she scratches a long trail from the nape of his neck to his back just above the curve of his ass.

It happens just as another of his fingers pushes its way inside of her; two phones ring, matching shrill tones fill the air. "No," he complains, and he thrusts his fingers faster, moves his thumb over his clit in frantic circles, and tries like hell to make her cum before whoever is calling is sent to voicemail.

"Oh, my God," she cries softly, her nails digging into his bare back. She isn't sure when his shirt came off; she has lost all sense of time and space. She hears the phones ring again, but she just doesn't care. "Elliot," she whimpers, and her body begins to burn in a way it only does when she's with him.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, and he thrusts his fingers faster, works then deeper, wriggles his thumb vigorously, and finally he feels her tense and tighten around his hand. "Fuck, baby, yes," he hisses, but his hand doesn't stop working.

She's writhing beneath him, her back bends at an almost inhuman angle, and she says his name in a way that sends him over the edge with her. Their matching grunts and moans land on each other's tongues as they kiss.

He's the first to move, though it's clear he doesn't want to, and he keeps his hands and lips on her for as long as possible before he has to break away to dig her phone out of her pocket. He hands it to her as shoves the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, sucking the remnants of her off of them, as he fumbles to answer his own cell.

It's the first time in a week he's answered without looking at the caller ID and he instantly regrets it. "I have nothing to say to you," he spits, and he almost hangs up, but the sheer sadness in Kathy's voice keeps him on the line. He hunches over, his head falls into his free hand, and his just-calmed heart starts pounding again. "No, this...this is happening. No, I didn't because...yeah, well, maybe I am, why does it matter? No, you're the only part of my life that needs to change, so I would...because it wasn't just one guy, Kathy!" His voice is too loud, too gravelly, and he knows without looking that Olivia has flinched at the sound of his anger.

He reaches for her, squeezing her hand when she slips it into his, and sighs. He lets go, then he rubs his forehead, Olivia's scent wafting from his moving hand, and somehow, it calms him. "We can't fix this. I...I don't want to, okay? There's nothing to talk about. I'm...yes, I'm happy. Yeah, I will. I know, without you, I know." He rolls his eyes at whatever it was she has said to him, and he laughs bitterly. How could his life be so fucked up and so perfect at once? He heaves another sigh and says, "Then call my lawyer," and he hangs up.

She bites her lip and suddenly feels self-conscious. Guilty. She pulls a blanket up around her as she stares down at the phone in her hands. She licks her lips and says, "I know, uh, that was probably a rough conversation, but...Fin called and our perp?" She looks up at him and waits until he turns and looks at her. "The principal. Vollatare?"

"He attacked another kid?" he questions, and he's gone pale as his hands shake. He loathes the cases involving children. That's the one thing he hates about his job.

"No," she says, and she takes a breath. "El, he's dead."

**A/N: oop….?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **_**I'd fall a thousand times before I let you bring me down**__**... (Kelly Clarkson) **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

The gentrification of the city isn't lost on her; in fact, she notices every last bit of it. Every small improvement in her neighborhood means the loss of its panache, its character, its history. They'd only been driving for a few minutes, and they'd passed five freshly painted buildings with newly built facades and high-glass windows, placed where used to lie small bodegas and century-old speakeasies that had been repurposed into bookstores and cafes. Each new _Starbucks _means one less _Tea and Sympathy _and part of her absolutely hates it.

She looks at him and she can tell he hasn't noticed; he hasn't seen the fortified _Apple _store that completely destroyed one of the oldest architectural legacies in the city. He certainly isn't paying any attention to the hybrid plants that have been installed up and down each avenue, lining each street, and he definitely missed the epic mural that now camouflages years of graffiti and tags from generations of New Yorkers.

He hasn't noticed any of it for three reasons: one, he lives in Queens and much of this isn't his to notice; two, he's driving and therefore isn't focused on anything but the road laid out in front of him; three, the principal of the school that all four of his children attend has been found in the alley behind a flashy uptown apartment building and he's furiously trying to decide if he's thankful someone killed the bastard or pissed off that the son of a bitch will never have to answer for the horrible things he did to so many innocent people. Innocent children. Children that could have been his own.

She notices, as she stares at his determined face, that Manhattan isn't the only thing that's changed. His chin is more chiseled now than it was when she met him three years ago; his eyes have changed color. They're still blue, but brighter, and several shades blended together into a hue that doesn't exist anywhere but in his eyes. His hair is thinner, darker, and his body has changed in ways she's sure she isn't supposed to have noticed. Muscles that have built and broadened, his arms and legs, shoulders and thighs, and his ass...a part of him that she can't help staring at whenever he's in front of her.

She's watched his personality shift over time; where there was once nothing more than a cold, callous, infuriating asshole, there is now a kind and gentle soul, a sense of humor, severe insecurities masked by an overwhelming ego, a sympathetic and overprotective father, parts of him that it took little more than a week to discover and parts of him that are still hidden beneath his wicked temper and overblown attitude. But he's different.

Especially now.

His whole outlook on life is different; his mood swings are intense, his emotions are unstable, and he has no idea how to handle his life at the moment but he compensates by treating it all as if nothing has changed, that his life is as it always was but with Olivia filling the spot vacated by Kathy. She's learned some new things about him because of this; he is intimate with her in ways he's never been with anyone else, ever; his passion is fiery, his love effortless, and the way he looks at her...like he's always looked at her but more brazen and less apologetic...makes her weak.

She can't help it, she knows it's the wrong time, wrong place, but she smiles and reaches out to him. Her hand slowly and softly brushes his short hair back, her nails drag down his neck, and she hears him moan. She watches as he shifts his weight slightly and the tension seems to dissipate before her eyes.

His shoulders drop, he exhales, and he shifts his blue eyes only for a moment, and he returns her smile. "What are we gonna do?" he asks, pulling the car over and parking along the curb.

It takes her a moment; she squints her eyes slightly and then realizes he means about work, the case. Their perp is now their vic and neither one of them can bring themselves to care. "Our job," she shrugs, "What else could we…"

"This is really just justifiable homicide," he spits, and his nostrils flare. "We find out someone related to one of our vics did this…" he shakes his head and slowly turns the key, cutting the engine. "I can't be the guy that takes them down, because all I wanna do is shake their damn hand!" He shrugs and gives a bitter chuckle.

"Cragen always says we don't get to pick the vic," she reminds him, "We don't get to pick the perp either, you know that. We just…"

"Follow the evidence, follow the law, make the arrest, leave it up to the jury," he says like he is simply making a grocery list, stale and robotic. "I know, I know." He pulls the keys out of the ignition and twirls the keychain around his ring finger, taking slight pride in the way the metal clinks against his ring.

"You ready?" she asks and she lays her hand on the metal pull on the door. She pauses when she doesn't get an answer and turns, and she catches him staring. "What?"

"I love you," he tells her, and it sounds so genuine, so pure.

The tone of his voice melts a part of her heart as it hits her ears. She's choked up, fully unable to respond, but her mouth opens because she's trying like hell. Before she can make any kind of noise, he clears his throat.

He exhales harshly and looks down at the steering wheel as he says, "I know you think I don't, or that I shouldn't, but…" he licks his lips and looks at her again. "I'm not crazy, and I'm not just throwing myself into this thing with you because I don't know how to be single, or because I need to be married."

She can't argue, but she does give him a look that she hopes he understands.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I know that's what you've been thinking." He takes another breath. "I'm sorry I kind of hit you over the head with this at the wrong time, here, but...this…" he holds up his left hand. "You and me...it's the only thing that makes sense, and you can't tell me you don't feel the same. The life we had in Syracuse...that's the life I wanna live...until the day I die." He chuckles. "I thought that when we came home, and things got back to normal, I'd forget...I'd slip back into things with Kathy and you'd meet some doctor or lawyer or reporter...but when you told me you saw her with that guy...it was like God telling me that I didn't have to forget, God's way of granting the prayer I'd been so desperately sending up for…" he pauses. "Three years."

She stares at him and wonders why he chose now, here, to finally talk about the very thing he's been avoiding. She nods at him once and says, "Okay. We...we'll figure it out." She leans over and kisses his forehead, closing her eyes when her lips touch his skin. She feels his hand pull at her hair and before she knows it, her lips are on his, his tongue weaving into her mouth, her heart leaping and throbbing in her chest.

When he pulls away he whispers, "Let's go," and he slowly nuzzles against her for a moment before moving. He gets out of the car and heads toward the first officer he sees, the red and blue lights of the squad cars making everything purple and hard to discern. "How?" is all he says as he works his way under the crime scene tape.

"Bloody mess," the uniformed cop says, shaking his head. "Someone beat the piss out of him." He juts a thumb over his shoulder and cringes, proving he hasn't developed the stomach to go with his job just yet, and maybe would be better suited to traffic or corporate beat.

Elliot nods once, and the expression born onto his face is something between vindication and disgust. He takes a deep breath and with a step forward, he reaches one hand out and back toward Olivia.

For a moment, she considers slipping her hand into his open palm, but that would be highly inappropriate here and now. She knows that. They both know that. With a silent laugh, she rolls her eyes at herself and realizes he's asking for a rubber glove. It's one of the things in her life that hasn't changed, and likely never will. He will never come to a crime scene with his own set of gloves or spare bags, or a pen-light, and she will always have at least two of everything.

She slaps a white glove into his hand and holds her breath as they head into the foyer of the townhouse. She turns her head and suppresses the urge to cough or gag because unlike the uniformed officer outside, she's grown far too used to the metallic smell of blood and gruesome sights like the one before them. "Damn," she says, and she turns to look over at Elliot.

They're thinking the exact same thing, and he voices it without hesitation. "This was a lot of rage," he tells her, and he guides her forward a bit. "One of the parents."

She nods, agreeing, and she starts analyzing spatter patterns and taking note of any gaps in furniture or decor to give them a hint of what exactly was used to beat the life out of the naked, broken man on the blood-soaked carpet. "Over there," she says, and she steps nonchalantly over a crime-scene technician to get to a shelf on the back wall.

Elliot rushes over with wide-eyes, eager to hear her theory, because he loves when she proves how much smarter she is than every other partner he has ever had. Hell, he thinks with a smirk, she's smarter than everyone else on the job, including him. "What'cha got?"

She doesn't take her eyes off the bare spot on the shelf as she says, "Missing bookend," and points to the other end of the long wooden surface. "What is that? Marble?"

"Looks like it," he replies, and he gingerly runs a gloved finger along the smooth edge of the incredibly expensive bookend, carved into the bust of Edgar Allen Poe. "He's got puncture wounds, maybe there were two…"

"Look," she interrupts, and she holds up her phone with narrow-eyes.

He takes it from her and lets out a soft "hmph" as he gazes at the Google image search results.

She voices the information he's already been made privy to, because she thinks that he needs to hear it. "The bookends are from a luxury decor site. One end is Poe, the other end is a raven."

"Quoth the raven," he says, and he turns around to look at the gruesome scene behind him one more time, "Nevermore."

**A/N: oh.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **_**Love...love is a battlefield. (Pat Benatar)**_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

She can't look at the walls without hearing the blast; she can't stand the smell of the still-fresh paint; she hates how stark white the walls are now. She's holding a cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand as she pretends to listen to Fin recap the interrogation he and Munch had just finished running. She tunes out somewhere between "son of a bitch" and "plea deal" and her mind drifts back a few weeks and north a few miles to Syracuse, to the quaint bedroom in the op-house, to how his body had felt pressed against her skin, how they were so fucking close to breaking the last rule they had been clinging to, how he had been so...so...close to being inside of her. So...fucking...close.

"Hey, Benson," a gravelly voice snaps her out of her thoughts, her gaze shifts from a too-clean spot on the wall to Munch, who's peering over his wire-rimmed glasses at her with a perplexed look on his face.

His suit sits on his body like it would on a hanger, the navy blue too faded to be regal but too deep to be crass. His bony arms are crossed and his smirk overtakes one half of his mouth as he says, "You get any of that?"

"Every word," she lies, but no one questions her, they simply nod at her as Munch moves back toward his desk. "What are you gonna tell your kids, Stabler?"

Elliot rubs his eyes, the sleepless nights and unresolved tension finally catching up to him. He pushes up his sleeves and crosses his arms, scratches at his bare elbows, and sighs as he speaks. "The truth," he shrugs.

Fin arches a brow and tilts his head, "You're gonna tell 'em their vice principal stabbed their principal to death with a raven shaped hunk of marble?"

"Not like that, no," Elliot laughs, hurling a rolled up bit of paper at Fin.

"Poetic death, if ya think about it," Munch says, and he grins when his colleagues moan at his bad pun and poorly timed attempt at humor. "Devlin said she was protecting the sanctity of the school, her students didn't feel safe anymore and she had to make him pay." He clears his throat again. "I'm actually surprised someone else didn't beat her to it." He nods slightly in Elliot's direction, accusing him.

"If he'd have laid a finger on my kids," Elliot says through gritted teeth, his knuckles crack as he balls his hands into fists. "I would have."

"I don't get why Cragen had you on this," Fin gripes, his tongue clicking. He leans back in his chair and hurls the paper ball back at Elliot. "You were too close to this. You knew the guy."

"I had to remind him that this job often requires objectivity," Cragen says, stepping further into the room. He glares in Fin's direction and says, "We don't get to pick the VIC, and this unit, if you haven't looked around in a while, is understaffed! Shit, for the number of calls we get a day, we'd need ten more bodies, so eventually you're all gonna have to deal with a case getting personal! I know your limits, and I know where you all draw lines, so if it got rough, I'd pull you, but it's my call!" He takes another step. "You question my judgment again, Tutuola, and we're gonna have a problem." He slowly rolls his wrist and holds out a pink slip. "You and Munch got a body dump on Madison. Looks like a pro."

"Yes, Sir," Fin states, sheepishly taking the assignment slip from his boss. He shoots a pleading look over at Munch and the two are up and out of the room in seconds.

There's silence. Cragen is standing beside Elliot & Olivia's twin desks, breathing heavily and tugging on the sleeves of his suit jacket. Slowly he turns, looks Elliot dead in the eyes, and says, "If I had, for one second, thought you couldn't handle it…"

"I know, Cap," Elliot nods once with an attempt to smile. "You handed it over to those clowns when we found out Devlin was a suspect, you knew I'd…"

"How are the kids?" Cragen cuts him off, shakes the tension out of his shoulders, and adds, "Kathy?"

"You wanna know how Kathy is, Jefe, you're gonna need to call her because I have no fucking idea," he gripes with a scoff, then brushes his nose, sniffles, and says, "Kids are wondering why they have the day off, I haven't told them anything yet, we haven't been home to explain."

"We?" Cragen glances over his shoulder at Olivia, who's pouring another cup of coffee. He hides the smile threatening to break open and he scratches a spot behind his ear. "Well, uh, then go home. You're going on, what, twenty straight hours? Go. If we get something…"

"You'll call," Elliot finishes, grabbing his coat and keys as he leaps out of his chair. He whistles over at Olivia and when she turns to him, he waves at her, and he grins. He's thankful as fuck Cragen is sending them home because he desperately needs to eat, shower, shave, sleep and he plans on doing it all with her.

The food is easy; as soon as they're in the hallway he has his phone in his hand dialing the number for her favorite Chinese takeout place from memory. He chuckles because he's rubbed off on her. Once upon a time, he'd cook for his family on days like this. Now, that's reserved for Sunday mornings when he serves scratch-made pancakes and brown sugar-glazed bacon, followed by a day of family outings and a homemade dinner. Today isn't Sunday. Today, it's Chinese takeout.

He orders and hangs up, then scratches at his chin, shaving he can do on his own, but it's the shower that concerns him. He desperately wants her under the hot water with him, his hands roaming over her body, pressing her up against the tiles.

"You okay?" Olivia's voice reaches for him. "You're...are you sweating?" She places the back of her right hand against his forehead, her eyes narrow as she starts checking his eyes and pulling at his collar.

"Baby," he laughs, pulling her hands away from his face, "I'm fine, I was just...thinking about you. I guess I got a little...hot." He gives her a scalding look, a sultry smirk.

She drops her hands slowly. Her body temperature is rising so far so fast that she can feel the icy metal of her ring around her finger. She shoves her hands in her pockets as she returns his lustful expression, and as she steps into the opening elevator, she swallows the lump that formed in her throat. "What were you thinking about, exactly?"

He grins smugly and tugs on his tie with one hand, his belt with the other. "Remember that, uh, that night upstate when we only had ten minutes to get ready? The shower?"

Her mouth is dry; her palms are sweating. Of course, she fucking remembers. "Of course, I fucking remember."

"That," he nods. "Exactly that, only, ya know, for more than ten minutes." He leans in and he's just about to kiss her when someone slips through the almost-closed metal doors. Instinctively, he gripped a bit tighter to Olivia's arm but pulls away from her just enough to seem professional. "Watch it, pal!" he threatens, seeing the invasive man getting too close to Olivia.

"Caught, ya," the man says as he grins salaciously at Olivia. "You've been playing hard to get."

"Excuse me?" Elliot snaps, and he lets go of Olivia's arm to ready himself for another fight.

Olivia rolls her eyes at both men, crossed her arms, and scoffs. "I'm not playing, I am hard to get," she quips. "Especially since…" she glances at Elliot and sees his nostrils flaring, and she hides a smirk as she says, "I'm...um...married." She shrugs. If it's a good enough excuse for Elliot to use to get away from the insane medical examiner, then she can use it to avoid being hit on by a smarmy FBI agent. She chuckles at the horrified expression on the man's face. "You okay, Porter?"

Dean Porter tries to appear nonchalant, now, but it's obvious his pride is a bit wounded. "You're what? Why didn't you...I mean, you were flirting with me," he justifies, arrogance lacing his words as he turns his nose up at her a bit.

"I called you an asshole and punched you in the face when you tried to feel me up," she corrects, "If that's your idea of flirting, no wonder you're single."

Elliot steps in, pushes Porter back a bit, and says, "What are you doing here? You didn't come all the way down here just to ask her to dinner, did you?"

"I would've," Porter snaps defensively, but he sighs in resignation and punches the button for the lobby. The elevator starts to move as he says, "I came to pick up the files on those girls, seeing as how it's really my case, not yours." He sends a soft glance in Olivia's direction. "Though, I do thank you for your help. We really couldn't have done it without you."

"No problem," she says softly, a half-smile gracing her lips. Taking the job wasn't a problem, but it had caused more than one once it had ended. The op had changed her life, shifted her universe, and every cell in her body was screaming because of it. "Really."

Porter sighed again, watching her turn away from him, and he said, "Listen, I really was planning on taking you to dinner tonight. I have reservations at _LeMangerie," _his exaggerated French accent earns an unimpressed scoff from Elliot. "Tell your, uh, husband you're having dinner with a co-worker. It's...it's not a lie, really."

"I'm not having dinner with you, Porter," Olivia tells him, and she smiles apologetically at him. "I told you, I'm...married." She runs her hands over the sleeves of her jacket, a chill suddenly rushing up the length of her spine, as though she'd just been scared shitless. She can't breathe, her head is throbbing, and her hands are shaking and sweating, she needs to get out of the fucking elevator. She hears the ding before Elliot and Dean do, and she rushes out of the elevator as soon as the doors open enough, not giving either of them time to stop her or ask questions.

Elliot moves to run after her, but Dean stops him. "Stabler, you, uh...you wanna take the reservation? Take your wife. Uh, Kathy, was it?" He gives a one-shoulder shrug. "I can't be seen dining alone in a place like that, and it's too late to find another date."

Elliot narrows his eyes. "Um, yeah, sure, if you're sure," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Eight O'Clock, under...well, obviously it's under my name." He clears his throat and says, "Think of it as a, uh, a thank you for a job well done."

"Thanks," Elliot smiles. "I'm sure...my wife and I could use a night out. Thank you." He nods once, smirking, and with a new swagger in his step, he rounds the corner to find Olivia. He doesn't see the narrow-eyed glare Dean sends after him, or the flat-lined smirk that goes along with it.

Dean tucks the files under his arm as he starts to whistle a slow, bluesy tune, and heads out of the building, his plans falling in line.

Like toy soldiers.

**A/N: oh no...**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I know you don't believe it, but I said it and I still mean it. When you heard what I told you, when you get worried I'll be your soldier. (Gavin DeGraw)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

It's unbearably hot. The temperature in the room has spiked, and it doesn't help that her landlord still hasn't fixed her air conditioning. She looks at him, half-apologetic and half-irritated, stepping over a pile of folded laundry on the carpet. "Well, ya know," she speaks, her lips curling into a pseudo-smile. "That wine was...amazing, and those were the best steamed clams I've ever had. I had a great time."

"Yeah," he says with a cocky grin, knowing full well the evening isn't over, and he slips off his tie with a soft grunt. He pulls a cotton tee shirt out of a dresser drawer and sighs as he says, "Me, too." He runs a hand down his face, turns to look at her over his shoulder, and he grins as he watches the straps of her purple dress fall. He licks his lips as he lets the shirt in his hands fall to the floor, his bare feet move on their own and in a breath, his fingers replace hers as they slide down her zipper. "We have the place all to…"

"Ourselves," she whispers, knowing what he's thinking, knowing the kids are with Kathy and they're alone for the first time in weeks. She stares back at him and something in his eyes hits her hard. Her heart races and her lungs burn; it's even hotter in the room now, stuffy and close, but she can't fight what is about to happen, she can't fight anymore at all. She feels the fabric of her dress slip away, not bothering to stop it before it drops. As it pools around her feet, she turns and she presses her lips together. Her hands slip under the open wings of his blue button-down, grazing his skin. She can feel his muscles twitch, small bumps rise, his chest tighten.

"Do you remember," he begins in a whisper. He takes a breath and his fingers tremble as he raises them to brush her hair behind her ear. "Our last night in Syracuse?"

Her eyes close and she inhales. His cologne fills her lungs, bringing back every memory of every touch, hug, handshake, fist bump...and the night that could have changed everything, that would have if they'd let it. Like they were going to let it now. She nods, coming back to the moment, feeling the heat against her skin, from the humid city outside and the touch of Elliot's hand. "I remember everything," she tells him, her eyes still closed. She feels his thumb slip over her lips, the way it did that night in the house upstate, and she does the very same thing she did then; she kisses it softly and opens her eyes.

As soon as he looks into her eyes, he's lost, and he pulls her to him, crashing his mouth into hers like a hurricane wave. He growls softly as her nails scrape down his back while she smooths away his shirt and he eagerly meets her hands at his belt, working with her to get to where they both so desperately need to be now.

The heat, the terrible, stifling heat, hits them harder as they stumble toward the bed, still kissing as though their lives depend on it, as if they'll suffocate if they part. His pants drop just before his knees buckle and he kicks them away with a chuckle, his hands slipping up her toned back as they fall flat onto the mattress. He mumbles something as he kisses her, and he shifts his hips, working his way between her strong thighs, he's so incredibly close.

She grips the sides of his face and arches her back, memories and dreams swirling together in her mind making it hard to tell the difference. She feels him, hard, thick, ready, playing at her entrance. Her heart races and her breath quickens as she feels his hands skimming over her skin, igniting a new fire as his touch triggers tripwires, sending shocks up her spine. "Elliot," she whispers, and she hears him say her name in a way that sounds almost like a prayer.

He holds his breath as he presses his hands into her hips and looks down into her perfect eyes. "I love you," he says, and he uses every ounce of strength he has to keep himself from crying as he slowly thrusts his hips. "Oh, my God," he exhales, his eyes closing. He drops his head to hers as he pushes himself deeper. He can feel her stretching around him, he knows her nails are digging into his back.

It's a moment he has fantasized about for so long, but his visions didn't do it justice. The reality is so much better than anything his imagination gave him. "Oh, God, Liv." She feels like hot velvet wrapped around him.

Her lip is clenched between her teeth, her fingernails are cutting into the thin skin of his shoulder blades, her hips rise to take him in further, deeper, and she is fighting back tears. "Elliot," she says on a soft breath, and that's when she breaks.

He moves, kissing away the falling tear as he slowly pulls out of her and thrusts back in, his hands slide up her body and tangle in her hair, and he smirks as he uses the knowledge he has gained in the three years of memorizing her that what he's about to do is going to make her head spin. He pulls, hard, and moves her head to get her to look at him. "Liv, eyes open," he says softly, and he lets one of his hands fall to a spot behind her left knee.

She moans, staring into his eyes, and she doesn't fight him as he lifts her leg and wraps it around his waist. "Oh, God," she whimpers, and her grip on him tightens as he moves faster. "Shit," she hisses when he pulls her hair again, snapping her eyes open. Training her gaze on him, she lets the weight of the moment fall onto her, another tear slowly runs down her cheek as she smiles and raises a hand to wipe away the ones coming from his eyes.

He sniffles and drops his head, kissing her again as he picks up speed and power, thrusting harder, deeper, faster. His world is crashing down around him, but she rebuilds it twice as fast. "Fuck, baby," he hisses against her lips. She's clenching around him already and fuck, it's too soon. "Not yet, Liv, baby, please."

She nips at his lower lip, but she knows she's about to explode, because of him, and there's no stopping it. "Holy shit, Elliot," she whimpers, and a fire burns its way up from her toes, through the rest of her body.

He feels her walls tighten around him, making it impossible to move, and he drops his head with a growl. "Fuck," he spits, and his eyes burn with need to blink, but he refuses because this is the first time in his life he is watching the woman he loves cum while he's inside of her. "Liv," he grits out, then he slams his mouth over hers, both catching her scream and muffling his cursing grunts. She's pulsing and throbbing, almost triggering his own release, but he holds out and as soon as she relaxes enough, he moves again with a victorious low chuckle.

Laughing back, she arches her back and raises her other leg, firmly gripping his body. Her hands slide down to cup his ass and she squeezes as he thrusts. "Oh, my God," she repeats, and his words finally register. She inhales sharply and says, "I love you."

The words hit his ears and his heart at the same time. His body reacts with more speed and strength, and he growls again as he slams into her, their skin meeting with loud slaps as he drives himself all the way home with every powerful move. "Fuck," he says, "Baby, fuck." He's trapped again, her second intense climax locks him in place like a vice.

She vibrates beneath him, quaking and tensing up, every muscle in her body throbbing. "Elliot, oh, my God."

Her undulating body and pulsating walls milk him and he cries her name as he cums, firing hot bullets into her and dropping his head against hers as he bites at her lips.

Kissing him, she stops moaning and shaking, but she stays where she is, tightly wrapped around him.

Quieting his grunts, he kisses her back, slowly and deeply, brushing her damp hair back with his fingertips.

There's silence in the room, their slick bodies slide against each other in a vain attempt to get even closer. He brushes his nose against hers as he makes a mental note to see her landlord in the morning and use his Stabler charm to get the AC fixed, but for the moment, he doesn't mind the heat.

Panting in time, they kiss and touch and neither one makes any moves to separate or disconnect. He's still throbbing inside of her and she is still rolling into and against him, riding the waves of the aftershocks that hit every minute.

They're living a moment so entirely fulfilling in every possible way, nothing else matters. They don't remember the job they need to be at in a few hours. They forget all about the bitter legal battles raging on around them. They've disregarded the fact that he technically cheated on his wife, and they're blissfully unaware that someone has them in his sights, right now, just waiting for the right moment to bring them to their knees.

None of that matters, or even occurs to them. They're still locked in a kiss that could break hearts, end world hunger, and baptize every baby born for the next decade all at once. Her hands are clasped at his neck, his fingers are toying with her loose curls, and their feet are taking turns tracing mandala patterns on their legs.

The phone rings, breaking the peace, shattering the silence, disrupting the afterglow of the single most satisfying moment of either of their lives.

He rolls his eyes and moans as he begrudgingly pries his lips away from hers. He cranes his arm over his head, refusing to look away from the majestically beautiful angel in his arms. "Stabler," he says, and he tries not to sound like his dick just twitched inside of his partner. "Yeah," he closes his eyes and drops his head again, letting his lips brush lightly against hers as he says, "I'll call her, thanks. Ten minutes."

Just as he hangs up, she sighs. A moment she's spent three years waiting for, praying for, us over almost as quickly as it began, despite the angry red numbers on her bedside clock telling her it lasted an hour and thirty-nine minutes. "What?" She asks the question but doesn't really want the answer.

Slowly, he kisses her, taking his time, letting his tongue explore every available bit of warmth her mouth is offering. He pulls back and whispers, "DB on West Thirty-Seventh." He kisses her cheek and seethes, gritting his teeth and tightly shutting his eyes as he pulls out of her. Holding out his hand, he waits. Will the moment after be awkward, tense? Will she shirk away the sheets and stand without shame in all her naked glory?

What she does falls somewhere in between. She lets him pull her off of the bed without covering herself up, but immediately her body settles against his. She kisses his chest, his neck, his chin. "Okay," she says softly.

He waits for her to move toward the closet, and as he moves to retrieve the long forgotten tee shirt, he smiles. "Liv?"

She turns over her shoulder as she works to clasp her bra.

His blue eyes sparkle in the dark room, and he pulls the shirt over his head, the cotton immediately sticking to his skin. He looks at her as one hand grabs the knob on a drawer. "I love you."

**A/N: Who's watching them? Why? Ah! **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I know you don't believe it, but I said it and I still mean it. When you heard what I told you, when you get worried I'll be your soldier. (Gavin DeGraw)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

The music blasts through her earbuds, drowning out the voices in her head. Her feet land in time with the beat, hitting the ground with such force that her calves ache with every supersonic step she takes. Her breathing is fast but even, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and she glances down at her watch.

She's a half a mile and five minutes over her record, and her heart rate has hit a new high. She huffs, her thighs kick up higher, her legs move faster. She's dealing with more frustration, guilt, confusion, anger, lust, and love than she ever has and it's jolting her awake ten minutes earlier than usual. She rounds the corner just as her knees begin to burn and tremble, and she slows to a stop right in front of her building.

The building in which her one bedroom apartment has been playing house to five more people than it's designed to hold, five more people than she had ever planned on being there. She stares at the wrought iron door as she inhales and her lungs sting when the cool pre-dawn air fills them to capacity.

Her body shakes as she climbs the cement steps, and she knows it's not because of her spent body and unstable muscles. It's because she has to face Elliot, his four kids, and tell them she knows.

They're leaving, she's certain, and as she slides her key-card through the lock and opens the door, the reason she knows hits her again: Kathy's voicemail replays, the message rings in her ears as she pulls the earbuds out of them.

_He needs to come home. Those are my children, our children. I'm not going to let one mistake destroy our lives, and I refuse to let my children have their world turned upside down. They're too young to go through all this court nonsense and they don't deserve to have to live through a messy divorce. Just tell him to come home. Please, Olivia, he… ::beep::_

It's the sound of Kathy crying that gets to her, brings back the waves of guilt and hurt that had finally become stagnant. She makes her way up the stairs, her eyes closing as she thinks of the best way to say goodbye. She rubs her forehead as she pushes the door to her floor open, wondering when Elliot got a message of his own, what he told the kids.

They had been at work, an agonizing and torturous case that had hit them immediately after they'd shared what can only be described as an immaculately mind-blowing night together. One that brought her closer to Elliot, and closer to God, than she ever thought possible. They'd had to pretend it never happened, they'd had to ignore the emotions and the desperate need to hold each other tight and make promises they couldn't keep. It had taken hours before they'd even had a lead, and by the time they'd finally got their job done, they'd each had three missed calls from Kathy.

The kids had been waiting at her apartment with Elliot's brother when they got home, but had only enough time to order tacos, eat, and get to bed.

Olivia had a new message on her phone when she woke up, and though she knew she shouldn't, she'd listened to it, and that's what had spurred on the need to run. Faster and farther than ever before, without waking anyone else. She assumed Kathy left a more heartbreaking message on Elliot's phone, and that he'd listened to it as soon as he woke, just like she had done.

Now, as she stands in the doorway of her tiny Midtown apartment, she's not so sure. She squints as she takes in the sight of the four Stabler kids and their father laying out breakfast plates on the small nook in the kitchen. She closes the door softly, wrapping the wire of her earbuds around her hand, and moves forward, confused. "What are you all…"

"Breakfast," Dickie says with a huge smile as he beams up at her.

She chuckles as she notices he's missing a tooth and wonders if he still believes in the Tooth Fairy and how much the going rate is these days. "When did that happen, kiddo?" She lightly grips his chin with two fingers and pulls softly at his lower lip.

"I was brushing and it came out," he tells her, and without warning he throws his little arms around her.

She's stunned, has no idea what to do other than close her eyes and hug him back. "Dickie what…"

Elliot speaks then, his heart bursting as he watches them. "I told him that you called the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus when we, uh, moved in, and made sure they all knew how to find us." He catches her eyes and winks at her.

It strikes her that either Kathy hadn't left him a message or he hadn't listened to it, and she smiles slightly at him. "Of course," she bends her head and kisses Dickie's forehead. "Go eat." She gives him a tiny shove toward the empty stool that's obviously his.

Elliot narrows his eyes when he sees that she's turned around, and he has to tear his eyes off of her perfect ass as her purple jogging suit shimmies away. "You're not gonna eat?"

She turns at his voice, she licks her lips and eyes his perfect lips, stubbled chin, and drags her gaze up to meet his. "I just ran two and a half miles," she chuckles as she pulls the nylon jacket off, and she notices him shift, something flicker in his eyes. "I need a shower."

He nods dumbly at her, and he clears his throat but can't speak. He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip and he eyes his kids for a minute. "Uh," he doesn't say anything else, but he power walks over to her before she can take another step. He swallows hard and wipes his suddenly sweating palms down the front of his grey sweatpants. "Me, too," he whispers, and he stops her from turning to look at the kids. "They're too wrapped up their waffles."

Against her better judgement, which she admits is a lot worse than it should be in the first place, she lets him take her hand and lead her into the bedroom. She opens her mouth but before even a syllable comes out, his tongue moves in, muffling the sound she attempts to make. Her moan is swallowed by his throat and her hands fly to the back of his head, she grips him tightly, letting out another moan.

She's relieved and she's terrified; she wants to cry and fuck him senseless; she hears angels singing and her mother clicking her tongue at her. Another moan escapes as she feels him pulling away her jogging pants and underwear with one hand while the other slips under her tank top.

"Fuck," he spits against her lips, and he tears away the fabric bit by bit. "We never got to…" and he chooses to deepen the kiss rather than finish his regretful statement. Once she's down to nothing but her sports bra, he kisses his way down her neck and trickles his fingers up to her chest to lift away the cotton.

"Motherfucker," she seethes, steeling herself on her still-weak legs as his mouth sucks in one nipple and fingers pinch the other.

He chuckles and sucks harder on the rosy bead, leaning against her to goad her into the bathroom. He manages to pull her bra over her head with her nipple still clamped between his teeth, but before he can get her where he wants her, where he needs her, she stops him.

Her hands are wrapped around his, stilling his motions, her breath is hard and ragged as she tries to speak. "Your kids," she pants, her eyes closed. She doesn't want to stop this, not at all, but she needs to. Kissing him softly once, she says, "You still need to explain what happened at school, what they're walking into in an hour…" she struggles to take another breath as she shivers in his arms, the throb between her legs growing more impossible to ignore.

"I will," he whispers as he kisses her cheek, nodding. "In the car. On the way there." He kisses her neck again. "But right now, I want you." He finds her lips. He presses to her, rocking his clothed body into her naked one, and he lets one of his large, strong, rough hands dig into the band of his sweats. A shrill ring stops him from grabbing hold and freeing himself, and he sighs.

As his head rests against hers, she calms herself down and takes slow, deep breaths, but panic strikes again when she hears him answer the phone.

"Kathy," the name leaves his lips with a heaviness that seems inhuman. He kisses Olivia's forehead, her nose, her lips, the ruined mood now giving him permission to leave and let her actually take her shower. He tugs on his pants, loosening them even though his erection is now nearly non-existent, the sound of his not-quite-ex-wife's voice ruining any arousal he had. "Trust me," he says as he walks back toward the kitchen, "I wouldn't have. I didn't look at my phone before I answered. I assumed it was work."

The kids chew silently, looking from their father to each other, wondering where his good mood went, and Maureen awkwardly starts to clear away empty plates and cups when she hears her father raise his voice.

"Are you out of your mind?" His face is red, jaw tight, and he feels his nails hook into his palm as he balls up his fist. "I'm not coming…" and something she says makes him stop, strikes his heart like a bolt of icy lightning. "They…" he is looking right at them, his children, their innocently curious expressions making him grin just faintly. "They won't be," he says, "Kath, they have been happier than I have ever...crying?" He covers the speaker and juts his chin toward his kids. "Katie, you were crying when you were with your mother? Why?"

Kathleen shrugs, bites her little lip, and looks down at the last bite of waffle dangling off the end of her fork. "I didn't want to be with Mom," her small voice admits. "I wanted to be here. With you and Liv. I thought…" the tears come unexpectedly and too quickly to stop. She sniffles and says, "I thought you were leaving us there. I thought…"

Elliot drops his phone, unconcerned with what it means for Kathy's mood, and rushes to his daughter, taking her head in both of his protective hands. "Sweetheart, listen to me. No, hear me." He smiles when she does; he's always stressed to his kids the difference. He wipes away her tears and says, "Liv and I...we aren't going to leave you guys, ever. Not...not for any longer than a night or two if we have to work, or if your mother wants to see you." He looks over at the other three children. "We...we're family. And family means…"

"Nobody gets left behind," Kathleen says, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her pink pajama top.

Maureen smiles and says, "Or forgotten," finishing the family motto they adopted from a favorite movie. It's never included Kathy; no, for some reason it has always been something kept between the kids and their father, and three years ago it extended to Olivia.

He nods at his oldest child and says, "So you weren't upset about me...not being with your mother anymore?" He turns to look back at Kathleen, who has stopped crying and started twirling one of her braids around her finger. He chuckles at how adorable she is at this moment and he asks, "You weren't crying because your mother and I are apart? That we...we're here, with Liv, instead of there with her?"

Kathleen shakes her head dramatically, her pigtailed braids whipping around her head and whacking Elliot in the fray. "No, Daddy!" she affirms, and she stops moving and leans into her father, and right into his ear, she whispers something so heartbreakingly sweet that he stares into her eyes as tears start to fill his own.

"Okay," he says, and he kisses her cheek as he rises to his feet. "Go." He looks at all of them. "Brush your teeth, your hair, and get dressed. We're gonna be late, if you don't…"

"Rush it!" Dickie chirps, running to the side of the room to dig through his bag for his uniform.

Elliot chuckles as he moves and then his eyes widen. He bends and picks up his phone, skeptically holding it to his ear, but the hysterical sobs that greet him answer his unvoiced question. "You did, huh? Look, this isn't how I ever wanted this to go down, but one way or another we would have ended up here. You know that." He closes his eyes, his stomach churns like a cement mixer swirling together emotions that don't have names. He closes his eyes and in response to the question she asks, a question that reopens old wounds and rebreaks his barely healed heart, he says, "No."

He brushes the back of his hand across his forehead and walks into the bedroom, surprised to see Olivia standing in front of the closet wrapped in her towel. He moves fast, looping one arm around her and pressing his lips to hers noiselessly. "Fine, do what you have to do, Kathy, but on my end...nothing's changing and you know when I fight, I win." He hangs up and then kisses Olivia again. Deeper. Longer.

She pulls away and looks up at him, worry in her eyes and a thump in her heart that she can't seem to quiet no matter what she does. "Kathy?"

He nods and says, "Tried to guilt me into telling my lawyers to stop drawing up papers by using the kids. They, uh, they're not upset and Katie...Katie told me she doesn't want to spend the night at Kathy's anymore because she misses us too much. Us. Me...and you." He kissed her again and tugs away the towel, hating that he doesn't have enough time to make love to her now. "Wear red," he whispers.

She blinks and when he backs away to change his own clothes, she smirks. She knows what he wants her to wear and why. She rolls her eyes and searches through the closet for it, and moves forward just in time to dodge the bullet that flies through the window, shattering the class and piercing a framed photograph on the wall.

"What the fuck?" Elliot shouts as he drops to the floor. He catches Olivia's eyes as he pulls out his cell phone and dials fast, staying low to the ground as he crawls to her. He speaks as he frantically helps her get dressed. "Cap, we got a problem, someone shot...you know? How do you…" he blinks, Cragen hangs up on him, and he looks toward the window and rises to his knees.

"What?" Olivia asks, straightening the collar of her red shirt. "Elliot, what…"

"Cragen's on it, he's tailing the guy. He, uh, he saw it happen," he interrupts, standing. He pulls her to her feet and out of the room, eager to get all of his kids where he can see them.

"How?" Her voice is more irritated than confused.

"Baby," he says, exhaling in relief seeing that his kids are sitting on the couch with their bookbags with the TV on so loudly that they didn't hear a thing. He turns back to her and says, "He's been watching us."

**A/N: What? **


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: ****Hold your breath, don't look down, keep trying. Darling, it's okay to be scared, it's frightening****. (Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

She sees it. It's in the way he speaks with his chest puffed out and his hands gesturing belligerently at the several inferior officers trying to do their jobs. It's not something that has ever bothered her, his confrontational nature, but now, in this moment, it's aggravating. "Elliot, stop it," she calls to him, but it's ignored. She shifts her weight to her other foot, leans back against the black SUV, crosses her arms over her red oxford shirt, and she sighs as she stares at him.

His jaw is tight; there are two veins visibly throbbing beneath the thin skin of his thick neck. He's turning a color that nearly matches her shirt as he barks orders and aggressively berates the rookies on the scene. She flinches, hearing him point out another mistake someone made, and she can't take anymore. She moves fast, grabs both of his tense and flexing biceps, and pulls him with all the strength she has over to the side of the road. "Knock it the fuck off!" she hisses, and she has to remind herself it's a bad time to be turned on by his rage.

"What?" he huffs, "I have to step in and take control, here! They're all just wandering around doing fuckng nothing!"

"No!" she spits, and it's clear her fury startles him because he seems to relax slightly. "What you have to do is let someone else figure out who the fuck took a shot at me and why, and convince me it's not gonna happen again, becaue I'm…" her words fall away as her cement facade crumbles like paper mâché. She can't stop her lips from quivering, or her entire body from trembling, and she looks away from him with a shaking head, unable to stand someone seeing her like his.

"Oh, honey," he whispers, almost all of his arrogant hoyt fading away. He wraps his arms around her, his hot muscles still pulsing with the remnants of his furious energy, and he kisses the crown of her head. "I'm so sorry, I jumped right into…"

"What did Cragen tell you?" she asks, sniffling once, not letting him turn the situation into something more emotional. She blinks and swallows hard, stopping the tears before they form, and she stiffens almost too professionally. "Why was he watching us?"

Letting out a dissatisfied grunt at her light-switch transition, he kisses her forehead and runs one strong hand down her arm, teasing the red cotton beneath his touch. He grins, licking his lips, because, fuck, he loves her in red. "He wanted to make sure we were okay," he tells her, hooking his thick fingers around her hand. He squeezes once, then whips his head around to see the cops and crime scene crew scouring the street for any sign of the person who fired the gun. He sends up a quick prayer, thanking God that they got the kids to school before the first squad car arrived. He turns back to Olivia and raises his other hand, dragging it down and through the waves of her hair. "He's worried that, ya know, after the bullshit with Briscoe and Hillard...the explosion...what's going on with Kathy, he...he was just making sure we weren't…" he chuckles and tugs lightly on a bit of her hair. "Doing anything stupid."

She laughs softly at first but then her eyes widen. "Wait," she spits out. "Before the gunshot, we were...I was…" her brows raise a bit more and she gasps. "Shit, did he see..."

"Relax," he tells her, and he pulls her hair again, a bit harder, and steps closer to her. "He wasn't watching us _that_ closely. He was waiting out here, in his car, to see if we left the house together, if we left on time…" he lowers his head. "He's not a voyeur, baby, he's just…"

"Yeah, okay," she dismisses, only half-believing him, and backs away. "Don't get too close to me out here, these people probably..."

"Detectives," a voice calls, and they both turn to look at its owner. The man is young, almost childlike in his features and stance, but he wears the dark blue uniform as proudly as anyone else. He nods at them, his hat bowing just a bit too far, and he pushes the rim back up with the butt of his pen. "We found this…" he holds up a sealed evidence bag, it's crystal clear plastic protecting a torn piece of yellow lined paper. He's careful to hold it by its red tape seal, and he says, "On the roof of the building across the street. Also, uh, we found a spent casing so that's where the shot came from."

Elliot reaches for the bag, grabbing it by the bottom and earning a stunned gasp from the rookie officer. He chuckles, remembering the days when he was as nervous and green. "They, uh, they don't print the bag, kid," he says with a smile. "Just what's inside of it. They only tell you they do so you'll be careful with the evidence."

The young cop tilts his head and frowns, not understanding yet how someone lied to him. "Oh, okay," he nods glumly and watches as the two seasoned detectives, two people he's been inspired by in so many ways, scrutinize the slip of paper he'd given them.

"What.." Elliot squints and brings the bag and papr closer to his eyes and tilts it toward the sun, keeping it where Olivia can see it, too. "What does that say? Is that...Latin?"

"French," she corrects, and she runs a finger over the bag to flatten it, reading the scrawled ink in a perfect accent. "Je ne suis pas Eugène Vidocq, mais il est en tout le monde. Le passé va se rattraper."

He stares at her as though he's seeing her for the first time. The smile on his face is so genuine and delicate it's as if he doesn't even realize it's there. She's just made him fall in love with her all over again, the pride that swells in him seems unnecessary, but he can't help it, he's fucking proud of her. "Sounds beautiful," he can hear the arousal in his voice and he mentally chides himself, not the time or the place, but he's always in a higher state around Olivia. "What does it mean?"

She turns her eyes toward his, a new worry in them. "I am not Eugene Vidocq, but he lives in everyone. The past is catching up." She shrugs, "Loosely. It's...it's something like that."

"Vidocq," Elliot repeats, darting his eyes downward as they narrow. "Why do I know that name?"

She bites her lip, the determination and focus on his face is making her want nothing more that to kiss him, but here, now, she can't. "I don't…"

"You two," Cragen calls to them, slamming the door to his green sedan. "You alright?" He runs to them, pulling each one close and running his eyes over them looking for any part of them that seems bloody or broken. "Did he hit you?" he looks at Olivia.

"What? No, why would Elliot…" she pauses and sees the genuine fear in Cragen's eyes. "You meant the shooter, no, uh...no the bullet hit the wall in our...my bedroom." She brings one hand up to the back of her neck and squeezes as she tries to roll away the tension she feels. "Did you get him?"

Cragen licks his lips and slowly nods as he sticks his hands in his pockets. "He's not gonna be able to tell us anything."

"Cap," Elliot sighs, closing his eyes. "You didn't."

"He raised his gun," Cragen defends with concrete in his voice. "I shot him. It was him or me." He blows out hard through his nose. "I didn't think asking him why he took a shot at you was more important than not dying! If the two of you would run the plays from my book instead of your own, this wouldn't be the third time in less than a month someone tried to kill you in the first place!"

"Hey!" Elliot barks, and he steps between Cragen and Olivia like a protective German shepherd. "There's no way in fucking hell this is our fault! Don't yell at her, Christ, she's been through enough!"

Cragen opens his mouth to yell back, but he sees the fire in Elliot's eyes, how they no longer look blue but black. He sighs. "Yeah, I…" he looks at Olivia and says, "I'm sorry, I know you didn't...I'm just…"

"We are, too, jefé," Elliot says to him, and he drops a hand to his shoulder. Before he can even process it, he's being pulled into a fatherly hug by his captain, who then reaches for Olivia and drags her into the hold.

Cragen lets out one small choked sob. He shakes his head and brushes it off as he pulls away, and then says, "We, uh, we're running DNA and prints at the lab, so we'll know who he is…" he stops speaking and he looks up at the apartment building. "You're staying here, right? With your kids?"

Elliot bites the inside of his cheek and looks toward Olivia as if asking for permission to lie. Or tell the truth. He twists back to Cragen and says, "Only until Kathy signs the papers, uh...the house is in my name but she…"

"I didn't ask for reasons or details," Cragen interrupts with both hands up. "It was just a question, if you aren't safe here, I can move you to a…"

"That won't be necessary, Captain Cragen," the man speaking steps up with a slow swagger that commands attention. He looks at Olivia and then at Elliot, and he says, "The bullet that went flying through your window was a ricochet. You weren't the target."

"How do you know that, Sergeant?" Cragen asks as he glares at Ed Tucker, and his tone seems to betray some sort of power struggle with him. Not professional competition but something deeper. Darker.

"Just got a call from Doctor Barton," Tucker says. He points toward Elliot and asks, "She's very worried about you, Stabler."

Elliot rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Yeah, I know she is," he grumbles, and he leans closer to Olivia out of need and desperation. He feels one of her hands slip into his back pocket and he smirks slightly. It's her way of claiming him, though she'd already done so years ago, unintentionally. He licks his lips and moves again, just to be sure her hand and arm are not in anyone's line of sight. "What else did she say?"

"Hump's name was Alex Vargas," Tucker says, flipping open a notebook. "He had a manifesto in his pocket, a pledge of some kind...and he was a card carrying member of the Vidocq Society."

Olivia and Elliot look at each other, both trying to think as hard as they can and figure out what that means. It's her that gasps first. "Philadelphia," she says with wide eyes. "The Morris Commission," he returns, and he turns to Tucker and asks, "He was a cop?"

"Ex," Tucker nods, "Retired and became a full time hunter for Vidocq." He glances down at the notebook in his hands and clears his throat. "He wasn't shooting at you, he was shooting at…" he flipped a page. "Paulo Sousa, the prime suspect in the rape and murder of three college students back in 'Ninety-Six. There wasn't enough evidence, he was acquitted."

Cragen snaps around and throws his hands up as he asks, "Okay, now how the hell could you have possibly known that?"

Tucker grins, taking pleasure in ruffling Cragen's feathers. "Because he's lying dead in that alley," he says with a pointed finger, indicating the street beside Olivia's building. "Shot to the head, through and through. Forensics gathers that the bullet ripped a hole in the guy, struck the side of a metal drainpipe, bounced back into the aluminum flashing on the building next door, and then whizzed through your bedroom window."

Cragen's eyes narrow as he tilts his head back and looks up, to the side, down, and back up, as if following the bullet's trajectory. "High velocity…"

"If you didn't shoot him, Don," Ed drops the pretentious attitude and let's his concern show, "He would've shot you, and you wouldn't have survived."

Olivia pulls her hand out of Elliot's pocket, though she immediately misses the feeling of his perfect ass in her palm. She lets out a breath and clears her throat. "So we're good? We can go to work, none of this was about me? Us?" She exhales again, the fear waning, her anxiety level dropping. "We're good?"

Tucker nods. "Yeah, this time," he brings two fingers to his lips and stares at her for a minute. He notices her hair is longer; there's something in her eyes that wasn't there the last time they spoke; he swears she looks happier. He coughs and says, "I'll drive you. I need to take your statements, anyway."

Elliot nods once, looks at Cragen who gives a nod of his own, and then gently lays a hand on Olivia's shoulder, guiding her to follow Tucker.

Cragen watches them go, mumbles something to himself, and gets back into his green Honda, keeping Tucker and his detectives in sight. Something feels wrong about the entire situation, and he's determined to get to the bottom of it.

**A/N: Who's running the investigation if Cragen and Tucker are with Elliot and Olivia at the station? **


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: ****At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

The smell of the paint has faded, leaving behind the pungence of cigarette smoke clouds caused by cops who couldn't be bothered to go outside. It doesn't mix well with sweat and fast-food fryer oil, bad coffee and cheap cologne, and the smell of death that clings to each member of the unit no matter how many showers they take. The odor permeates, filtering through the cracks in the doors, through the seams of the windows and two-way mirror, and it's enough to make anyone sick. No wonder their perps confess so quickly.

Olivia pushes harder on the spots behind her ears, trying to ease the headache that seems to have gotten worse in the fifteen minutes she's been in the interrogation room with her partner and her sergeant. Tucker is being surprisingly nice, but it's the look in his eyes as he takes Olivia's statement that gives her pause, that makes her wonder. "That's everything," she says, but she's leaving out the parts that she thinks could get them into trouble, like the fact that she had been completely naked when the bullet had torn through her window or the fact that Elliot had just pulled a towel off of her freshly showered body. "We have told you everything we know." She sees something else flash in Tucker's eyes, she can feel the heat radiating off of Elliot as he seethes in the chair beside her. It's what tells her he sees it, too. "Are we done?" she asks, and it's then that Tucker pushes the small red button on the digital recorder, and he nods at her.

"You are," Tucker says softly to Olivia, but then turns sharply and glares at Elliot. "You're not." He juts a thumb over his head while looking at Olivia, ordering her to leave, and it's something he hopes she'll do without protest because he needs something from Elliot that Olivia shouldn't hear.

"What the hell did I do?" Elliot asks, his eyes following Olivia as she leaves the room without questioning Tucker's command. He sinks into his chair with a defeated grunt and shakes his head. "Perfect." He turns up his eyes and snaps. "What? What'd I do?"

"Nothing," Tucker replies with a shake of his head and a small shrug. He takes a moment, looking around the small room. It's pristine, the newness of the concrete and paint telling him that it hasn't yet been used to its fullest potential, not yet christened by the scrapes and scratches of Stabler's rage or the pen and marker fingerprints of Benson's intellect. He drags his long glance over the floor, noticing no scuff marks. No scuffles have been had here, yet. No man has been at the mercy of the two best detectives he's had the displeasure of working with, yet. He inhales and exhales and finally looks over at Elliot. "Your wife's lawyer sent me a couple of forms. One was insurance and pension shit, but the other...was a statement request. Something about combatting accusations made by Kathy, now…" he holds up a hand and tilts his head. "I have seen you beat the living shit out of the pervs and punks you put in this room, but you...I know you. You never hit her, not once, am I right?"

Elliot's leaning forward now, his worried eyes blinking fast, his blank expression flat against pale white skin. "Of course, Ed. I would never...I have never…"

"I said, I know," Tucker interrupts, nodding at him. He runs his hands down the opposite sleeves of his suit jacket. "That's what I wrote down, signed, and delivered. I just...I needed to know."

"You know the fucking bullshit I grew up with, and I swore…" Elliot's nostrils flare, his eyes narrow, the color comes back into his flesh with a ruddy fire. "I swore I would never be anything like him. Nothing...like my father." He waves a hand and chuckles bitterly. "Here, in the hole, I take my rage out on the bastards who deserve it, but I have never and will never raise a hand to my kids, or Liv, or anyone else who…"

"Elliot," Tucker spits, rising, and his hands are on Elliot's shoulders as he looks him in the eyes. "I said I know. It was a bullshit claim, and as far as I know, Kathy dropped it. She knew she was grasping at straws, man, trying to make this as painful as possible for you." He presses a hand to his chest. "I'm gonna do everything I can to keep her from dragging your reputation and career through the mud, but you gotta give me a heads up next time."

Elliot nods, his lip caught between his teeth.

"It's really happening, then? Your divorce?" He sees Elliot nod again. "I always thought that you would stick it out. You…" Tucker points to Elliot's left hand. "You still got your ring on, that's gotta mean something. Holding out hope?"

Elliot's laugh is louder now. "No, uh...this isn't the ring, um…" he curls and unfurls his fingers and his smile warms as he looks at the band. "This ring has absolutely nothing to do with Kathy."

Tucker shoots him a confused look, but he waves it off and speaks again. "My next question...why I wanted Benson outta here," he breathes again and drops his arms to his sides, plops back down onto the corner of the white table, and presses his lips together. He swallows once. "The beneficiary on your pension and insurance, through the department is…"

"Olivia," Elliot says flatly, as if he's answering basic trivia questions like 'What color is the sky?' or 'What is one plus one?' and he shrugs. "What does that matter?"

"Why?" Tucker turns, shifting toward Elliot. He folds his hands and flinches at the way the tarnished gold band he can't bring himself to take off feels cold against his skin. "Kathy and her lawyer were expecting payouts and account balances, but all they got was a pretty big surprise. I know you got kids, man, you're telling me that if anything happened to you..."

Elliot stops him with a highly raised hand. "Ed, I changed my pension details the day I found out Kathy was fucking around behind my back," he said, chuckling. "I knew where it was heading and I knew Kathy'd try to get her hands on every fucking penny she possibly could, so I made it...impossible. Clause states, Liv has to use half of everything for the kids, just like Kathy would have had to do. My ex-wife is not entitled to that money, not anymore. Olivia is."

Tucker nods, understanding, but then he raises a finger. "You have two department policies, though, and...El, man, Benson's been the sole beneficiary of one of them since you took it out."

"I know," Elliot whispers. He nods, licking his lips. "The one, uh...first one, that's always been strictly for my kids. Anything ever happens to me, they're set and taken care of, I need that security. Liv is just the...custodian." He bites his lip and eyes the two-way mirror, and he knows that Olivia's on the other side; he knows she never had any intention of leaving him alone with Tucker. He exhales, a shaky breath, and nods once at his own reflection in hopes that she really is there, and he turns back to Tucker. "When Liv transferred into this unit, became my partner, uh...we got pretty close, pretty fast."

"That's the damn truth," Tucker chuckles, and he scratches the back of his left hand. The ring is wearing out its welcome, and talking about the nature of Olivia and Elliot's relationship is making it clear. "Go on."

Elliot clears his throat. "After I found out about her father...and her mother…" he drags a hand down his face and slaps both palms onto his thighs. "Look, she didn't have any family, Ed. She was single, she's an only child, and it's my job...my right and my honor...to take care of her, too. On the field, in the office, at home, if I'm dead or alive, it's my job. I needed to make sure she…" his eyes fill with tears and he blinks them away, they roll down his cheeks and he swats at them like mosquitoes. "I took out a second policy, for her. So I could…" he shakes his head and stops talking before Tucker hears his words become sobs.

"How long have you been in love with her?" Tucker whispers the question. There's a depth in his words that frightens him, and a look in his eyes that makes it known he's human after all. "Off the record," he points to the lifeless recorder, and he rubs his lips together. "This isn't an inquisition."

Elliot laughs as the last of his tears fall. He leans back and crosses his arms, looks up at Tucker, and he says, "I took out that policy...almost four years ago, Ed. She's only been here for that long. I think…" he clears his throat and he smiles. "It took a month. So, three years, six months, three weeks, and five days." He throws his hands up and says, "I just let myself fully fucking realize it...four weeks ago. But it's been there. The whole time."

Tucker's staring down at his hands, he has his left palm resting on his right, the thumb and forefinger of his right hand twisting and pulling at the metal on his left ring finger. "Okay, uh, and when did you...how did you know when…" he clears his throat and rolls out a kink in his neck, and then he sighs. "How did you know you weren't in love with Kathy anymore?"

"I don't think I ever really was, Ed," Elliot shrugs, and he says, "We made a couple of mistakes in high school. I loved her enough to do the right thing, I loved her enough to stay with her, and for a while, we were pretty fucking happy. But I realize now that...I was never _in love_ with her." He grins and he shoots his eyes back toward the glass. "Someone told me...that loving someone and _being in love_ with someone are two completely different things." He returns his attention to Tucker. "She was right."

"You make your move, yet?" Tucker asks as he pulls the gold ring off of his finger completely with a final sigh. "Benson know how you feel?"

Elliot hesitates, biting his lip. He's not sure if this is a conversation between friends or if honesty could cost him his job. "Um...no, she's my partner. You know I can't...we can't, um…"

"Can't what?" Tucker bites, shoving the ring into his pocket.

"We just can't!" Elliot yells, and then he looks at Tucker. He tilts his head and squints. "Can we?"

"As of this moment, the NYPD employs three teams...three sets of partners who are also married." He runs a hand across his forehead. "It, uh...it used to be four. The guy got a pretty big promotion and it…" he gives a sad smile. "Now they're not partners. Not married anymore either." He swipes a hand over his head and says, "Got a feeling, though, if you and Benson ever tie the knot, ain't nothing gonna untie it. Promotions, for the two of you, usually come at the same time, and your catholic ass won't go through a second divorce." He laughs and says, "Tell me I'm wrong."

Elliot holds up a hand. "I just always thought that it was against some kind of rule! That we'd be risking our jobs! It's not? We wouldn't be?" He glances toward the mirror again, gnawing on the inside of his left cheek, and when he turns back to Tucker, he speaks. "You said four? Really?"

"It's rare because we warn against it, but it's not forbidden. We can't stop people from falling in love, can we? Fuck. It's frowned upon in most departments because it can cause issues, mess with your priorities, put added strain on you," Tucker lists. "You can get sick of each other faster, you can fight more...you can go to almost illegal lengths to protect and defend each other, which you two have done anyway, right?" He sees Elliot grin and he knows. "You could choose each other over a vic, or risk losing the perp, it could compromise a case." He wags a finger at Elliot. "But you...you two," he shakes his head and chuckles knowingly. "The two of you...the way you operate and have from day one, tells me that...that wouldn't happen. You'd make it work." He blinks twice. "You'd be...different."

Elliot smirks. "We would be," he says, and a tight knot that has lived in his stomach for days disappears. "We will be," he whispers to himself, a promise.

Tucker stands. "If you're really going ahead with this divorce, Stabler, you need to watch your back. Kathy's not above pulling some shitty tricks, and I now know that you...you could have something most men would kill for. Some have." He leans in and slaps Elliot on the shoulder. "You deserve to take the risk. You want her, man, you gotta tell her how you feel and you...you hold onto her, no matter what. Don't make the same mistakes..." He rubs both of his eyes with one hand and clears his throat again, and then pops his head up with a smirk on his face. "Or you can go out with Doctor Barton. She called again, ya know. Checking on you. She's got it bad for you."

Elliot rolls his eyes. "I told her I was married, doesn't that…"

"Doesn't stop some people," Tucker states matter of factly, and he gives Elliot a flat-lipped smile. "Affairs...happen. Especially in this line of work."

"Ed?" Elliot rises out of his seat and moves over to Tucker, looking at him closely. Realization hits and he closes his eyes. "Shit, man. I'm...I'm so sorry."

"Nah, it's the job, right?" Tucker gives an exaggerated smile and shrugs in acceptance. "I wasn't with her twenty-four-seven anymore, I was in a position of professional authority, never home…" he blinks away what could be misconstrued as tears. "She spent more time with her new partner than me, and I think…" he shakes his head, and the reason he's been so preoccupied with Olivia and Elliot hits him like an anvil. "I know how Kathy felt. I know what...what went through her head, why she ran around on you. I don't condone it, I don't like it, but I understand it. But I also get...what you said, about love...being in love..." He clears his throat and tugs on his tie. "People who are really in love...they don't let that shit happen."

"No," Elliot shakes his head slowly and shoves his hands in his pockets. "They don't."

Tucker grabs the digital recorder and stiffens as he moves toward the door. "Maybe you…" he looks up and then he lets out a huff. "You know she feels the same way about you, don't you? Benson, I mean. You said it yourself, being in love...really in love...makes all the difference. If you...if you two start something, it's gonna prove that." He laughs, then. "Or as I said, there's always Barton, because maybe you just need to get laid. Lord fucking knows you and Kathy haven't boned since Benson came along."

"Okay, Ed, you made your point," Elliot chuckles, and he follows Tucker out into the pit. His eyes widen when he sees it's empty. No Olivia. No Cragen. No one. The two men walk with matching machismo swagger into the squadroom, and then identical confusion falls over their faces.

"What the hell happened out here?" Tucker asks the question first, pulling rank. He and Elliot have to leave their friendship in Interview Room One for the time being. He looks around and spots Olivia near the back wall, pinning things to the board and talking out loud to the three men flanking either side of her. He's momentarily distracted by the way her body moves in her fit slacks as he steps over to the group. He looks her over and red, he thinks, is definitely her color. He shakes it all away, chalking it up to his mixed emotions about his failed marriage, and he asks again. "What the hell happened?"

Olivia turns, the scowl on her face hinting at both her annoyance and her determination. "Got a call from Sister Peg," she says, and she eyes Elliot for a moment. She tries to forget his words, tries to forget the confessions she has heard him make to Tucker, and she swallows back her own feelings for the sake of their case and Tucker's presence. "Guy ran into the shelter, wielding a gun. Fired a warning shot into the ceiling, then made his way around the common room. He grabbed this girl," she taps a photo on the board. "Millie Garrison, and under the threat of shooting anyone who tried to stop him, left with her. Sister Peg said he fumbled for his keys before getting away, sending whatever was in his pocket flying. She has it all in a plastic bag, waiting for us, a few rolled-up dollar bills and loose change, a cigarette lighter...and a note. She said she couldn't understand what it said because it was written in…"

"Fench," Elliot says, and he looks at each and every face in the room. "Shit." His eyes land on Olivia's for a moment, and he can tell they're both thinking the same thing. He shoots Cragen a raised brow. "Cap?"

Cragen nods once at him and says, "Go." He looks at Olivia. "Both of you." He watches them spring into action and he looks toward Tucker. "You trying to string up my team for something?"

"Not your team," Tucker says, and he yanks once on his tie and says, "Just you. Don't think I don't know why these Vidocq people are in this city, going after SVU's cold cases. You so much as suggest putting Olivia and Elliot back under for this, I'll take you in front of the Morris Commission myself."

Cragen breathes out hard, through his nose, and steps up to Tucker. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Come on, Cragen," Tucker says with a roll of his head. "You signed off on them heading upstate to trap that fucking lunatic, then almost as soon as they get home in one fucking piece, they get hit with a connected case? DiMartino and Hillard come after Benson, using one of _your_ other detectives to help them do it? Now all of a sudden, two cases in the same day connect to the Vidocq Society which we both know has been on your ass begging you to convince Benson and Stabler to work with it." He narrows his eyes and he raises a threatening finger. "Hear this: if I find out you had anything to do with any of this bullshit, I will make you pay for it. Are we clear?"

Cragen stares back at Tucker, stone-faced. "I would never...ever put either of them in harm's way, and you know it." He crosses his arms. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"It's my job to care," Tucker declares, and he sneers at Cragen. "And it's my job to clear the dirty cops out of the department. Watch your back, _Captain._" He turns, breathing once, and takes a few slow steps before he breaks into a run. If Cragen isn't the one pulling every string possible to make Olivia and Elliot nothing more than a couple of toys in a game of war, then he needs to figure out who it really is before he runs out of time.

**A/N: What does that mean? **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: ****At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Maybe it's the air, the wind whipping her hair around her face and the fact that it smells like maple and pine rather than sewage and smog. Maybe it's the birds singing songs she's never heard or the rustle of little animal feet scurrying around her. Whatever it is, it's bringing her back to Syracuse.

To days she spent calling Elliot silly pet names as they traipsed about the town pretending to go antiquing. To nights spent with their hands all over each other's body, their lips making promises that couldn't and shouldn't be kept, their mouths finding new homes on each other's skin. To the parties meant to entrap a serial rapist that they shouldn't have been enjoying so much, but they did. She blinks and she feels his hands on her bare shoulders, his thick body pressing into her as he holds her against the wall. He whispers into her ear that they're being watched, but he confesses it's not the only reason his hands are moving up her dress, it's not the only reason he's thrusting his denim covered erection into her, and it's not the only reason he's kissing her. It's simply the excuse that makes it all okay, makes it forgivable.

She inhales and she's taken back, not to Syracuse, but to her bedroom, where the pretense was a moot point and the fantasy became reality. She feels him thrusting into her, whispering her name, telling her he loves her, and swears on his life that what they had in Syracuse is what they'll have forever.

Above her, a hawk screeches and she's thrust back into the present. She takes a deep breath as she looks down at the grim scene before her, feeling deeply sorry that she's in Central Park and both her bed and Syracuse are so far away. "Barton?" she calls, and she looks from the lifeless body on the ground to the group of people to her left. Her blood boils a bit as she sees the pretty redheaded doctor engrossed in a full one-sided flirtatious conversation with her partner. With an almost hateful smirk, she shouts again. "Doctor Barton?"

Barton turns. She grins at Olivia and then bats her eyes at Elliot as she lets her hand slide from his shoulder down his arm to his hand. She looks up at him as she lays her palm under his and says something about his ring, his wife, and the rumor of his divorce that's been filtering through the PD grapevine.

Elliot yanks his hand away from her and says, "Just a rumor. My wife…" he glances down at his platinum band, smiles, and says, "Means everything to me." He looks back up and says, "Now, could you please, re-examine the body the way my partner and I have asked you to do?"

Barton rolls her eyes and skulks toward Olivia, the wind rushing through her curls as she zips up her dark blue jacket, realizing that unzipping it hasn't served its purpose. "Detective Benson," she spits, eyeing Olivia as she passes her to get to the body.

Olivia huffs, crosses her arms, and she feels him next to her before she sees him. "That looked like a friendly conversation." She takes a long sip of her honey nut latte and hopes he can't tell she's fuming like an envious lioness.

Elliot hums and nods once as he lifts his own coffee cup to his lips. He sips his German chocolate espresso and swallows with a soft moan.. "Too friendly," he tells her. "She told me she wants to, uh, give me a complete physical work-up, says I could have injuries I haven't noticed." He chuckles silently as he watches Olivia's body shift, her shoulders rise as she seethes. He sees her eyes narrow and darken, her nostrils flare, and he leans closer. "I told her my wife already closely examined every fucking inch of my body, and would kill her if she tried to do the same thing. Then I told her…"he exhales and he closes his eyes. "You are my everything, and she doesn't stand a fucking chance."

She turns to him, only slightly, and she nods once as she licks her lips. "Still, not…"

"Detectives?" Barton calls to them, and she waves them over when they look at her.

"This has been one fucking shitty night," Olivia speaks as she sips her coffee and walks with Elliot over frostbitten leaves. "First Sister Peg berates is for not having armed officers stationed at the shelter, then her girl turns up dead two blocks away and fucking Barton is the on-call…"

With a hard yank on her arm, he stops her from saying anything else. He looks into her eyes and brushes back her airblown hair while he knows Barton is watching. He smirks at her and says, "It's like any other night, right? Except...we can go home and...make each other forget." He winks and turns, calling to the doctor. "What'd you find?"

Barton tries to ignore the jealousy she feels after watching him with Olivia, and she rises to her feet as she hold out the victim's wallet. "She has three different driver's licenses, three different states…"

"Three different names," Elliot finishes. He shoots Olivia a hard look over his shoulder. "Her prints are probably in the system." He looks back over to Barton. "Run them, and as soon as you get a hit, call…"

"You only want me to call you when it's about a victim?" The redheaded medical examiner crosses her arms.

"No," Elliot tells her. "I want you to call Detective Benson." He peers down, ignoring her stunned expression. "You got a COD?"

Barton scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she pales as she watches him bring his coffee cup to his perfect lips and sip, the way he puckers makes her wonder what kind of kisser he is and what else he could do with his mouth. She clears her throat as Olivia's harsh yell of her name snaps her out of her thoughts. "Gunshot wound to the right temple. My guys found the slug in a tree…" she points. "Thirty feet away."

"High velocity bullets," Olivia says. "Cases really are related." She nods at Barton, a silent and begrudging thanks, and then turns to Elliot as she sips her coffee. "We need to find out what she did, why these Vidocq assholes are suddenly taking to violence."

"When that guy…" Elliot begins, but he bites his lip. "The one that came upstate with us. Porter said he was from Brooklyn Special Victims...fuck, what was his name?"

"Lake? Something Lake?" Olivia eyes him and takes a sip of her coffee, grimacing at the lukewarm sweetness now living at the bottom of the cup. "What about him?"

"One night, uh...you were asleep," he smirks, recalling why she'd been so exhausted. "He called to trade notes and he said...something about being able to get the guy, even if it took a while. He mentioned something about this Vidocq group, I think maybe he's a part of it." He lifts his cup but before he sips, he stares at her. The collar of her red shirt is loose enough that he can see a bit of her skin and it makes parts of his body stiffen and harden. He licks his lips, thinking back to the way it feels to be inside of her, the way her wet heat encapsulates every inch of him without complaint, the way her voice sounds when she cries his name and prays to God and comes undone because of him. "Fuck," he hisses, closing his eyes tightly. He shakes his head fast and tugs at the crotch of his black pants.

"What, um…" she scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip, recognizing what the reddening of his skin and quick nasal breathing means. "El?"

"You...are fucking walking wet-dream," he whispers to her, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He eyes the scene, the crime technicians and straggling uniforms mulling around, and he grunts once. "This shit...always overshadows the fucking good things." He looks back at her. "You, uh...you…"

Her phone rings, silencing him, and she tosses her empty cup into the nearest wire can with one hand while pulling her phone out of her pocket with the other. "Benson," she says as soon as it's against her ear. "What? Another…" she pauses. "Ed, we just...no, we're still here at the park with…" she closes her eyes and she sighs. "Okay, fine. I'll call him. He's probably still in the city. Yeah, thank…" her eyes flicker toward Elliot and she tilts her head. "No, why would he have told me that? We aren't…" she chuckles. "You bet how much?" Her laugh is louder and she can't help but move closer to Elliot and hook her pinky around his index finger. "Thanks. Bye."

"Okay," Elliot looks down and he smiles at the small but meaningful linked finger. "What the hell was that about?"

"Tucker wants us to call Porter," she rolls her eyes at the mention of the smarmy agent's name. "He made the same connection you just did, thinks Porter can put us in touch with…"

"Why don't we just call into Brooklyn?" Elliot cuts in, his own jealousy clear and present. "Why do we need to involve that federal fuckwad. This has nothing to do with him or…"

"Okay, Hulk," she laughs, shaking her head at him. "When we get back to the house, you call Brooklyn, I'll tell Tucker we skipped the middle man." She takes a breath as they both finally turn and head out of the park toward their parked Ford. "Why, uh...why did Tucker ask me if you told me that he married his partner?"

"I...had a nice little chat with him," he told her, unlocking the four-door sedan. "He told me a couple of things, maybe...maybe he thought that I'd tell you." He grins as he opens the door and eyes her over the hood of the car. "He knows I tell you everything." He gets in, slams the door, starts the car, and he waits. He looks over the console at her once he hears her door close and the seatbelt scrape against the latch. "He married his partner...and he's divorcing her."

She sees the ire in his eyes, the flash of fear that's hidden behind love and lust and arrogance and allergies. "That…" she exhales. "You think that would happen to us?" She bites her lip and then laughs bitterly. That won't happen to them because they're not really married, and once the papers are finally drawn up and he talks to his lawyer, she knows he's leaving her again. But his eyes, his blue fucking eyes, are telling her something else. "El?"

He shakes his head. "No, no, I...I think…" he clears his throat and turns his attention toward the road as he shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb beside the park. "I think that would never happen to us. He also told me there are four other couples, partners currently on the NYPD roster, who are married with a fuck ton of kids, two of them have been married longer than…" he was going to say _me and Kathy _but he stopped himself and he shook his head. "For a long time."

"Why did this conversation even…" she gasps and her eyes widen, "Shit, you told him about us?" She raises her left hand. "This?"

"No, no, but he...he was asking about Kathy and he told me…" he licks his lips again and he smiles at the thought crossing his mind. "Liv, he practically ordered me to ask you out, to tell you…" he sighs softly, swerves into the next lane, and says, "How much I love you."

She looks down, her hands crossed in her lap, staring at the ring that has come to mean more than it was ever supposed to, and she says, "You gonna do it?"

She raises an eyebrow as he laughs and the sound that fills the car is music to her ears; he hasn't been this genuinely happy in so long, but the past few days seem to have permanently improved his mood.

"Baby, we're...beyond dating, but I have no problem telling you I love you, so fucking much," he says to her as he tries to ignore the impulse to lean over and kiss her. He knows he needs to stay focused on the road; it's a dangerous time of night and New York City drivers are always crazy. "But what he said...ya know, we don't have anything to worry about...job wise."

She nods once, her smile gone. "Our jobs are the least of my worries," she whispers, and she lets her head drop back against the headrest. Her eyes fall to gaze out the window, the blurring colors turning into nothing more than grey as the car rolls. "You talk to Kathy?"

"Why the fuck would I talk to the Kathy?" He nearly growls the question as he changes lanes and slaps the blinker, preparing to turn down the street toward the Sixteenth Precinct.

Her head snaps toward him, the world slows down as does the car. "Because she's your…"

"No," he stops her and once he nestles the car into its space and turns the key, he shifts in his seat and reaches for her. Both palms clutch her cheeks and he leans closer, looking deeply into her eyes. "You are. That's what you need to fucking understand. You. _You._ Not Kathy." He moves again, his lips cover hers and he relaxes when she kisses him back, when she moves in the same twisting motion as he does.

She pulls away as she nods and she gives in, though she's really still not sure how long he will keep up the charade. "Okay," she whispers, her lips still tingling with the heat of his kiss.

He brushes a thumb across her lips. "We just have to...I don't even think it matters, at this point, but maybe after this bullshit settles...maybe we ask a judge for a favor? And we should…" he loses his voice, his words catch in his throat; he sees something in her eyes and he lowers his head again to kiss her softly. "I mean it. I'm serious." His lips run over hers again; another slow kiss develops and dies. "Baby, I love you." He's looking at her with so much sincerity and desperation etched into every pore of his face. He runs his hands down her neck, over her shoulders, down her back, and he whispers. "Last night...that was the first time in three fucking years." He blinks once. "And it was the first time my heart was truly in it, the first time it felt so...so fucking perfect, and the only thing I regret is not having more time to stay with you after…"

It takes him by surprise. She's not usually the one to make moves, to be the impetus, but her lips are on his and she's mumbling something against his lips that he can't understand but agrees with anyway.

When she pulls away, it's only because she needs to breathe and the air in the car is going stale. "El...we...we need to think about things. A lot needs to happen before we can even think about…"

"I'm getting the house," he says with a shrug, as if it will affect anything she says.

She opens her mouth to speak but her phone rings, and she wonders briefly if someone is watching, knowing the perfect moments to interrupt. She kisses him quickly and answers her phone with a snap of her last name, and she gives Elliot a stunned but somehow pissed off look. "Yeah, I remember you. My partner and I were just about to call you, actually."

He grins. It's Lake. It's a step closer to finding a solid connection between cases, a solid lead. He opens his door and just as he gets out of the car, his cell chirps. He reminds himself to ask Olivia how to set actual songs as ringtones because the stupid chime annoys the shit out of him. He answers as he closes the door and steps up to Olivia as he spits out, "Stabler."

She listens to Lake intently, her attention momentarily drawn to her right hand as it's grabbed and gripped by Elliot. She smiles softly, and she says, "Sounds good. We'll be waiting." She hangs up and is just about to ask Elliot why he's holding her hand when she notices the scowl on his face.

He heaves a heavy sigh and nods once. "Well, thanks for telling me. No, uh…" he looks down at his hand, wrapped around Olivia's, and then cautiously turns toward the brick building. He brings her hand to his lips. "Not yet. Soon." He silently kisses her knuckles and then lets go. "Bye, Ed."

She asks the question with nothing more than a quirked brow.

"Tucker...told me that…" he stares at her. With a deep breath, he changes his mind. "Later. I will tell you later. What did Lake say?" He turns and leads her into the building.

"He's on his way here," she says. "He found one of his friends in an alley behind a bar, same kind of note in his hand. He was shot while he was in the middle of writing it."

"Terrific," Elliot spits, and he checks his watch. "I gotta call my brother...and we're gonna need more coffee."

**A/N: Oh, what did Tucker find out?**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: ****At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

His brother is on the sofa with a can of beer and a bad movie; his kids are scattered around Olivia's apartment, on the floor, sound asleep in the sleeping bags that still have no explanation for being in the apartment; his coffee tastes like burnt chocolate because "Sir, that's what you get when you come in five minutes before we close" and he never wants to go to the place that's open all night because it's too far away.

He looks at her and sips, his face finds an expression between a grimace and pure ecstasy and he feels the uncomfortable contortion of his eyebrows as he swallows. He tries to stay objective, focused on the case, but he can't help but spot the way Chester Lake seems to leer at Olivia, the way he stands just a bit too close to her. He moves, the denim of his jeans sliding against sensitive skin; it makes him growl a bit and he knows now that seventy-five percent of his attitude in the last three years was due to incredible sexual frustration. Sure, his arousal has always been at an optimal level around Olivia, but since he now knows what she feels like, sounds like, tastes like, it's beyond bearable.

She sees him walking toward her, the grin hides behind a professional flatness, and she nods at him as she takes his coffee cup out of his hand.

Before he can stop her, she sips and chokes and he has to laugh. "I was gonna warn you…"

"Well, you didn't," she spits out, making a disgusted face at him. "Lake was just running me through what happens at these Vidocq meetings, and he gave us the most recent membership roster." She holds up a staples packet and tilts her head. God, he looks fucking incredible in jeans. She licks her lips, wondering when he changed his clothes and how she missed it. She swallows back a moan and instantly regrets it, the bitter remnants of stale coffee rests on her tongue. "Here." She holds the list out to him.

He takes the list from her, scans it, and he raises a brow. "Am I supposed to know any of these people?" He reads a bit closer. "They really are going rogue, aren't they?" He looks at Olivia and then turns to Lake. "You said one of them was stopped before he could take matters into his own hands?"

Lake nods, clearly displeased by the fact that Elliot worked his way between him and Olivia. He pulls on the cuffs of his brown blazer and cracks his knuckles. "Mark Garver," he says, and he turns his attention toward Olivia's computer monitor. "He'd been trying to get us to back him up on the idea that six girls who went missing from Philly were sold to a kingpin in Queens. There was no evidence to suggest he was right, so...none of us picked up the case." He clicks a few buttons, scrolls down the page, and moves the mouse to hover over a photograph. "Three days ago, this girl, Natalie Danes, sent him a text message, asking for help. She told him she was being held against her will at a motel in Brooklyn. He called me, but before I could get to him...to help him…" he brings a hand up to his face and rubs his eyes. "Someone else got to him." He looks at Olivia. "To kill him."

"Her captor found out she contacted him," she surmises, and she turns on her heels as she says something about having a guy upstairs do a phone dump on their victim.

Elliot watches her go, swiping a hand down the front of his sweatshirt as he licks his lips appreciatively as her perfect ass disappears through the door. "Damn," he hisses softly.

"Fuckin' right?" Lake agrees, and he elbows Elliot with a chuckle. "So she...she's married? What'd he have to say about her playing house with you for two weeks?"

Elliot's head turns, his eyes darken a bit out of pure irritation. "He knows it's the job. So does...my wife." He clears his throat again and says, "So why did three of your pals become the scum we're all sworn to take down?"

"Man, if I knew," Lake sighs, shaking his head. He scratches at the back of his neck and lowers his voice. "I don't. I have no idea. All I can tell you is the three you got involved with here...they're the same three who brought up cases with nothing to go on, practically begged the rest of us to dig where there was no red X, know what I'm saying?"

Elliot nods once. "You think they were dirty cops to begin with, got in with you guys to save face and get to their loose ends before you could do it the right way and nail their asses." He shrugs and smirks. "Something like that?"

Lake's eyes narrow. "Who told you they were dirty?" He looks around and spies Olivia heading back into the room, grins slightly, but turns back toward Elliot and asks, "You know that for sure?"

"Sometimes it pays to make nice with the rats in Internal Affairs," Elliot says with an arrogance that seems to land on Lake like an anvil. "Sergeant told me that the girl in the park was once a protected witness, but the evidence in the case went missing so they dropped the charges and she…" he bites back the disgust. "She couldn't go home, she was still a mark. Turns out the guy who grabbed her from the shelter was the lead detective on that case. He was also the one who made the evidence disappear. Guess he thought he had to make the witness disappear, too, because that case was on Vidocq's list." He reaches over the computer to his side of the twin desks and grabs a file, then hands it to Lake.

As Lake reads it, Olivia steps up behind Elliot, two cups of fresh coffee in her hands. She holds one out to him and says, "It's not a German chocolate latte but it…"

"Thank you," he interrupts with a wink, and he holds her gaze as he sips slowly, as if trying to tell her how badly he wishes he was doing something else with his mouth. He sees the lust register on her face as she brings her own cup to her lips and he smirks almost wickedly at her. "You told him you were married?"

She tilts her head and sips, swallows, runs her gaze down his body and back up. She meets his eyes as she asks, "Do you want me to tell him I'm not? Tell him he can take me dinner?"

The scowl that falls onto his face is her answer. "No, fuck...no," he spits. "Just...that's the first time you said it. So you're with me on this?" He takes a longer sip of his coffee and when she nods once at him, he relaxes. "Okay, good then," he breathes, relief flooding him. He sends a short glance in Lake's direction and speaks loud enough for him to hear. "As for this...we can't do much else until the tech guys get us those phone numbers and we locate that girl. We can either have Homicide work the rest of it with Tucker or hand it over to IAB completely. These bastards were all…"

"Excuse me?" Lake cuts into his words. "I asked you to let me in on this because I know these people, I'm not just passing it over to a bunch of bastards without having a say in it!"

Elliot turns sharply, glaring at Lake in his usual arrogant manner, but this time it's warranted. "You wanna work it with them, you go right ahead. Our caseload is too fucking heavy to stay on something that's not even a Special Victims…"

"Fine!" Lake barks, "Point me to your sergeant." He is matching Elliot's expression almost exactly, his hand still on the computer's keyboard.

Elliot scoffs, shaking his head, and he pulls out his cell phone to dial Tucker's number as he walks away. He leaves Olivia behind in his huff, and he still doesn't know that in between the hellish events of the night, she's paid his bills, balanced his checkbook, sent In Dickie's football registration fee, and scheduled Lizzie's optometrist appointment. "Ed, you need to...yes, who the hell did you think it was?" He rolls his eyes and rubs his forehead. "You need to get down here. We got a situation that...oh, uh, she did?" He turns and looks at Olivia over his shoulder, a small smile growing. "Yeah, okay. We'll be here." He hangs up, but checks his notifications before he shoves the phone into his pocket. He chuckles to himself and heads for her, she's still in his sight, and he wraps a hand around her arm, pulling her gently away from Lake and to a quiet corner. "You already told Tucker?"

She bites the inside of her cheek. "He was there when I was talking to Livingston about the girl's phone records." She shrugs. "I figured he should know about…"

He stops her with a quick, "Okay," and smiles at her. He raises one eyebrow and aks, "Anything else you did without telling me?"

Her eyes widen slightly, she's honestly confused. "Um...no?" She gives him a matching crooked brow and folds her arms.

"I got confirmation e-mails from the bank," he says, and he grins more broadly at her. "And from three credit card…"

"Oh," she exhales, cutting him off, and one of her hands drags through her hair, her rings catching on her waves, and she shrugs again. "You...you told me Kathy was always the one that took care of the bills, because...well, she had the time. I didn't want you to miss a payment or…"

"Don't...don't explain," he says softly, silencing her. His hand runs down her arm, tingles with the need to link with her fingers, but he pulls it away knowing it would be a very bad idea. They're at work. He breathes in, he can smell her from where he stands, and he moans almost inaudibly. "Thank you," he tells her, and he tries to make sure that everything he's feeling is obvious in those two words. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Cragen's voice cuts into his thoughts.

"The two of you...are you dealing with these Vidocq assholes?" the captain asks them as he steps up to them.

Olivia turns and crosses her arms over her red shirt, the one she only wore because Elliot asked her to, and she shakes her head. "None of the vics…" she grimaces. "Thankfully, they're not really our cases."

"We stepped into a pile of shit, but I think Tucker's handling it with Lake, over there," Elliot adds, jutting a thumb in the direction of their visitor. "I, uh...I don't trust that guy, Cap. I didn't even trust him when we had to deal with him upstate."

The mention of Syracuse makes Olivia flush, her eyes close, and suddenly she feels him pressed against her, his hands on her, in her. She snaps out of it when Cragen calls her name. "Yeah, yeah, fine. I'm fine. What do you want us to do?"

Cragen eyes her for a moment, then looks at Elliot. "Go home. Both of you."

Elliot doesn't need to be told twice, and he's not giving Cragen a chance to change his mind. He grabs Olivia's elbow and pulls her through the room, stopping only to grab their coats and his keys. He guides her through the open doors, down the hall, and he gets her through the stairwell door. They make it halfway down a flight of stairs before Tucker runs down the one above them.

They stay hidden in the shadows as they listen to him barking orders at the two men with him, and once he disappears beyond the landing's door, Elliot grins smugly at Olivia. Without warning, he kisses her, and when he pulls away he chuckles at the look on her face.

With a small sigh, he takes her hand and takes the steps slower than before, and he tilts his head as he speaks. "So...full disclosure," he begins, and he squeezes her hand tighter. "How many of my bills did you pay?"

She lets out a soft laugh. "All of them," she tells him. "Well, the ones that weren't on AutoPay." She bites her lip. "I did...everything. I had the time, I guess...well, when you changed." She feels his thumb run over the side of her hand and she breathes in deeply. She pushes the door open, and even though she knows Kathy isn't waiting outside, she still checks before stepping out. With a sigh, she takes a long stride and pulls him out into the alley. "Lizzie has to go to the eye-doctor on Saturday. They're not open Sunday. I know it means you have to take a couple of hours off, but I…"

His lips stop her words. His kiss engulfs her, muffling every sound she could have possibly made if her brain had been able to control her voice. He feels her hands move, gripping the back of his head almost instantly. He moans and deepens the kiss, his left hand sitting on the middle of her back, his right palming her ass. He pulls her tighter and bucks his hips, finally earning a whimper from her.

She pushes him back fast, blinks rapidly, and looks up at him. "We can't...not out here." She tries to catch her breath and move but her body is jelly and she's too comfortable in his arms. "Shit." she laughs, and she twists away from him and nudges him toward the front of the building. "Why, uh…" she inhales, still reeling from the incredible kiss. "Why the jeans?"

He kisses her temple as they walk. "Pants were getting a little uncomfortable," he tells her, winking. They're silent as they make their way into the front parking lot, and when he unlocks their car, he stops walking. "We were here a lot longer than we should've been, dealing with more shit than necessary which is why, I think, Cragen sent us home." He turns and cups her face, stares into her eyes as he counts to three, and when he would've been on four, he kisses her again. It's soft. It's slow. It's powerful. He eases away from her and whispers, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispers back to him, and she wonders what the look in his eyes means. It's one she's never seen before, and it's giving her the chills.

"Cold?" he asks, because he feels her shaking in his arms. He pulls her closer and wraps his arms around her fully.

She shakes her head and kisses him again, and she says, "Take me home," against his lips.

He smiles and turns, finally getting them both into their Ford four-door, and as he starts the car, he feels a part of him that was broken begin to heal. He wraps his hand around hers and cups them both over the car's gear shift. He pulls out of the parking space, out of the lot, and onto the road, and just before he changes lanes, his phone rings.

"No," he whines, rolling his eyes. "Baby, can you…" and he jerks in his seat. He hasn't even finished asking yet, and her hand is already digging in his pocket. "A little to the left," he teases.

"When we get home," she says, and it's more of a promise than a joke. She needs him. All of him. It's something she's unable to deny now. When she gets his phone out of his pocket and looks down at the screen, she pales. She's only just accepted what he's been promising, finally let herself believe its real.

"Honey, what…" he eyes her and sees something is very wrong. "Who is it?

She takes a breath and she holds his phone in her hand as it rings again. "It's Kathy."

**A/N: What does she want?**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: ****How we've grown; Every single day I'm proud. I swear, I won't let anything stop us now. ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

It's not the abrasive language that rings in her ears in two angry voices. It's not the way he stays silent even though the phone call is long ended. It's not even the slurred message her mother has left on the land-line answering machine. What's bothering her, what is truly taking its toll on her now, is that he hasn't even looked her in the eyes. Not once. She runs the towel through her hair as she sniffles and she hopes that her still-wet skin hides the tears well enough. She's ashamed of crying in the first place; crying over a man makes her feel weak.

She sighs as she drops the towel into the hamper and she reaches out a hand to grab her dresser knob, and when she hears his throat clear behind her, she doesn't turn around. The drawer is pulled open and she grabs the first pair of flannel pants she sees, cringing because they're his. She licks her lips as she pulls them up her legs, under the fluffy cotton of her bathrobe and she says a very flat, "What?"

He squints as he watches her deftly tug on a tank top without so much as untying the robe, and for a moment he wonders how old she was when she mastered such a skill. He knows it began as a way to hide bruises and scars in gym class at school, but she's never displayed much modesty where he's concerned and it strikes him to the core. "We okay?" he asks, staring as the robe unfurls and is tossed into the hamper.

"You tell me," she demands, her red eyes now focused on the surface of her dresser as she hunts for a tub of moisturizer and a hair tie. She bites the inside of her cheek as she wraps her damp curls in a low ponytail and then unscrews the lid to her cream. She notices his silence. "Well?"

"I hope so," he says softly, closing his eyes. He drags a hand down his face as he steps further into the bedroom. "I have a meeting with my lawyer in the morning, a conference call with Kathy and her attorney...this isn't...isn't gonna be as easy as…"

"Nothing ever is," she scoffs as she interrupts, and she catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. She tilts her head as she looks at his tee shirt, trying to remember if he ever mentioned liking Pantera, and she rubs the moisturizer over her forehead. "What did she say to you that made you…"

"She yelled at me," he breaks in, and he takes two steps closer to her and loops his thick arms around her waist. His eyes close again as he inhales, breathing her in, and he moans softly. "She got a couple of text messages from the bank. She's still on the account you used to pay those bills, and she…" he clears his throat and moves his hands lower on her body, his fingers smoothing along her inner thighs. "She thought I'd be helpless without her, and she's pissed because...instead of realizing how much I need her and crawling back on my hands and knees, I just let you take care of the bullshit she only ever did half-assed anyway." He kisses the back of her head and smiles. "You smell amazing."

"Shampoo," she rolls her eyes and tries to walk away from him, but he tightens his hold. Her eyes meet his in the mirror.

"No," he shakes his head and there's something in the way he's staring at her that makes her heart stop. "It's you, baby." He turns her around and drops his gaze from the glass to her eyes and he slowly moves forward, bending his head.

His lips cover hers before she can speak and the shock gives way to relief in under a second. She loops her arms around his neck and moans his name but something in the back of her mind springs forward and she pushes him away. She breathes heavily as she licks her lips, her hands still flat against his hard chest, and she swallows once. "I heard her." She opens one eye and hazards a glance up at him. He looks confused and worried and turned on all at once. Her other eye opens and she inhales. "I heard...everything."

He lays his hands over hers, keeping her hold on him, keeping her from running. "And you heard what I told her, you heard me, too. Loud and clear. What she wants...she's never gonna get. Even if…" he pauses and he runs his thumb over the rings on her left hand. He grabs hold of her hand, slips it away from his chest, and he looks down at it and smiles. "Even if she wasn't screwing around behind my back...even if I never found out…" he lowers his voice as he runs his fingers over the stones on her rings again. "This was happening. I had it all planned. Figured out. Because it had only been a couple of days and my life felt so empty without you." He lifts his head, smirks at her and winks. "It just may have taken a bit longer, so thank God she turned out to be a bigger bitch than I realized," he chuckles. "I love you."

She smiles at him, the window of doubt shuts and locks, and she kisses him softly. Her hands wind tighter around his and she feels her rings hit his platinum band. With a sigh, she pulls back again, but rests her head against his as she whispers, "She was right about one thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I am a lot fucking happier with you than I ever was with her," he says, and thrusts his hips into her body, earning a moan and proving a point.

With a soft moan, she shakes her head. "No, she...she was right when she said you guys can't stay here too much longer. They can't keep sleeping on my floor like this, it's not fair to…"

"And I told her, like I'm telling you now, she doesn't have a fucking say in where we go," he says, brushing his hands over her head. "Besides, uh, I, um, I think I want to make an offer on a place. Couple blocks from here. We'll swing by it on the way to work, and you're gonna...well, you'll know why I want it as soon as you see it." He runs one hand from her wrist to her shoulder and then toys with the strap of her top. He tugs lightly and wags his brows playfully as he walked backward toward the bed.

She laughs as they fall onto the mattress and she gasps when his hands find her skin beneath her shirt.

He rolls them both over as he sweeps his fingers over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch, and he chuckles through their kiss in a victorious moment. He's amazed at the effect he has on her and he takes pride in it. "Liv," he whispers softly as he drags one hand down her body and tugs on her pants.

She breathes as she bucks upward into him, her fingers pulling at the cotton of his tee-shirt, and she moans his name against his lips. She whimpers, feeling his right hand dip low between her thighs, two of his fingers slip up and drag through her folds, and sparks ignite behind her closed eyes.

He moves so she can pull his shirt over his head and he growls while he shoves the flannel pants over her hips with his free hand, the other still stroking through her wetness. "Baby," he mumbles, working his way out of his own sweats.

Her mouth falls open as his fingers push into her and she wonders if it's what he's doing that's driving her mad or if it's the fact that it's him, the man she never thought she'd have. "Elliot," she breathes, clawing at his back.

He moves again, fast, and with one thrust, he's inside of her with his hands holding hers down to the mattress. He looks into her eyes as he moves and he realizes it's only the second time he's ever felt so emotionally and physically connected to a lover. Both times with her. He knows she's the only one he has ever and will ever feel like this for and with and he squeezes her hands down tighter, thrusts harder, and promises to never let her go.

She's on the brink, he knows it, and he kisses her as he moves deeper, faster. "God, baby," he grunts against her lips. "I love you."

"El," she says, and it's almost like a prayer. "Oh, God, Elliot." She wriggles her hands but he's holding them so tightly she can't break his grasp. "I love you." Her back arches and she feels him moving harder, even faster.

He feels her tightening and he nudges her nose with his, kisses her again, and whispers, "Cum for me, baby, I need to feel you…" and before he gets the last word out, she clamps around him and it silenced him, stills him.

She moans his name again as she breaks apart, arching her back, her fingers curling around his.

He drops his head and kisses her neck, biting, nibbling as he loses his last bit of resolve and fires off into her with soft, short grunts. He hits into her one last time and freezes. Slowly he moves his lips up, kissing her neck, her chin, her lips, and when he feels her pulsating subside he whispers, "I love you."

She blinks away the tears that fill her eyes and she kisses him and nods, finally pulling her hands out of his. She brings them to his face and says, "God, I love you," before wiping away the wetness under his eyes. She kisses him again and then laughs when he flips them over.

He chuckles as he smooths his hands over her body and reaches one hand out to shut off the bedside lamp while the other cups her ass and squeezes.

They laugh again, the way they'd spent two weeks in Syracuse laughing, as if nothing else matters. No one else matters. She drops a kiss to his chest and feels his fingers playing with her hair, stroking her to sleep as he drifts away himself.

It's only a few hours before their peaceful night is interrupted. The simultaneous rings of twin cell phones bring them out of their post-coital bliss. With a grimace and a low whine, he rolls to his left and blindly slaps around for his phone. When he finds it, he runs a hand down his face before answering the call with a harshly spat out, "Stabler." He hears Olivia grunting out her own last name as she tries to sit up, and he rolls his eyes and stifles a moan. He's still inside of her and certain parts of him are now wide awake.

"Okay, slow down," she says as she seethes and pulls away from Elliot's warm body, the cold hitting her instantly as the sheets fall away when she stands. "Repeat that?" She grabs a hooded sweatshirt off of a pile in the corner and pulls it on as she listens, then tosses a matching one to Elliot. It doesn't matter whose is whose; it never has; it never will.

He anchors the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulls the hoodie over his head and says, "Okay. Yeah. Ten minutes. Bye." He hangs up and catches the pair of jeans as they're thrown at him. He rises from the bed and puts them on, hopping into them as he checks the time. "Eh," he says with a sideways pout, "We got a couple more hours than I thought we would." He moves over to her and tugs on the laces of her hoodie. "You ready?"

She nods as she bites her lip. "Cragen wouldn't tell me who…"

He kisses her to stop her from asking. When he pulls back, he says, "We'll find out when we get there." He takes her hand and leads her to the end table. He hands her badge and gun to her and then grabs his own before silently making their way into the hall and through the living room.

They're careful not to step on any of his kids or wake up his brother, but on the way out, it's her head that turns to stare. She sighs at the sight; an entire family that isn't hers spread to the four corners of her apartment. There's a part of her that feels guilty because she shouldn't be in this position, she shouldn't be caught in the middle of an impending divorce and possibly a custody battle and it's weighing on her in ways she can't explain. But there's another part of her that loves having the kids there, feels a sense of safety because Elliot's brother has been on her couch so long it's molded itself to his body so they wouldn't have to leave the kids alone. It's a life that, if she's honest with herself, she's always wanted. A life that her mother keeps saying she'll never have if she "doesn't get a move on." But here it is, right in front of her, and she didn't have to make any kind of move at all.

"Babe," Elliot whispers to her, "Come on." He kisses her again and pulls her away from the door. It closes and locks behind them and he loops an arm around her waist. He bites his lip and exhales slowly, knowing what they're walking into and praying it isn't going to be as bad as he thinks. Olivia doesn't know who their vic is, but he does. "Fuck. I need to call my lawyer. Meeting's gonna have to wait." He kisses her forehead. He looks into her eyes and he knows, he can tell, she feels everything that he does, just as intensely. He kisses the end of her nose. "We should...stop for coffee," he says. "The good stuff, I promise," and he guides her into the elevator, pulling her close and kissing her one last time before he has to pretend it's not what he wants to fucking do with every single passing moment. He loses himself in her, and briefly, he forgets about the shit they're about to step into, forgets about the questions Cragen's gonna ask that they won't answer. He grins, he feels her smile, and he thinks about the only place in the world he'd rather be: Syracuse.

And he chuckles because he knows, with a bit of luck and a lot of begging, he can bring them both as close to it as possible.

**A/N: Who's the vic? **


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I'm not a soldier but I'll fight through our darkest of days. Get on my shoulders and I'll carry you all of the way (Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"What the hell was he wrapped up in, Benson?" Cragen's voice barks as he stares at her. He waits for the snapback, but he watches her sip her coffee and shrug, and he prods her with a terse, "Well?"

"How the hell should I know?" She shakes her head with narrow eyes. She grips her coffee cup a little tighter.

Cragen tilts his head to the left and throws an open palm in the direction of their vic. "Your ex-boyfriend turns up dead in a hotel room, and…"

"Boyfriend?" She practically yells. "He took me out to dinner once, only once, two years ago! Oh, and then he acted like a complete dick to me because I wouldn't sleep with him." She sips her coffee and rolls her eyes. "I have a better relationship with my eye doctor than I had with him."

Cragen raises a confused brow and then clears his throat. "Okay, well...just…" he waves a hand. "Do your job." He turns and heads over to two uniformed officers, leaving Olivia and Elliot in the bedroom with the body and the medical examiner.

"One dinner?" Elliot whispers as he leans into her. "That's all it was? You...you didn't sleep with him?"

She glares at him while her lips purse over the edge of her coffee cup. "Not even close." She hides her grin behind the green and white cardboard, seeing relief flood his eyes, and she chuckles at the way he seems to puff out his chest. "Go ask your little girlfriend over there how he died, huh?"

"Hardy har," he shoves her toward the bed, the body, and he says, "It's Melinda, if you haven't noticed." He laughs at the shift in her mood and he scratches his chin as she greets the doctor brightly. There's a moment of casual and friendly banter, but then three sighs and a cold silence as all heads turn back to the body.

"Aside from the obvious," Olivia starts, pointing to the man on the bed, naked, with leather straps on his wrists and ankles, "What happened here?"

"Asphyxiation seems to be the primary cause of death." Melinda Warner sighs and says, "It's all the post-mortem injuries that are mind-boggling. Stab wounds...round punctures...and these," she turns the man's head to the side. "Two smaller marks, meant to look almost vampiric, I think. Smaller in diameter but same depth as the ones on his chest."

"Well, the man was clearly into a few things that weren't...vanilla," Elliot says as he points a finger at the straps and buckles, flattening his lips into an almost embarrassed line. The few times he's crossed paths with the vic, he's never been given the impression that this is the sort of secret life he'd had. "Could've been a masochist. How do you know those marks were left after he was dead?"

Warner looks at him with a screwed up face and folds her arms. "I asked my Magic 8 Ball," she quips. After rolling her eyes, she says, "None of the puncture wounds are bruising or bleeding, Stabler, which means there was no blood circulation or ventricular activity at the time the wounds were inflicted."

Olivia tears her eyes away from the cold body of former NYPD Detective Nick Falco, cringing slightly, and asks, "What aren't you telling us?" She tosses her cup into an open trash bag and cracks her knuckles.

Melinda scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, eyes Elliot first, then looks at Olivia. "No fluids, other than his, no prints, no trace that doesn't appear to have come from him. Not a hair or a broken fingernail...nothing. Just…" she shoots Elliot another hard look and says, "Smeared lipstick on the condom, which he's still wearing."

"That'll give you DNA, right?" Elliot asks, and he hates how his libido suddenly controls his body and mind and shakes away the images of Olivia's mouth wrapped around his dick. He runs a hand down his face and takes a breath, focusing back on his job, on work, and he asks, "Did the guys dust the straps? Leather is…"

"Whoever left him here like this wore gloves," Warner cuts in, and she turns back to the man on the bed. She shakes her head pitifully and then pulls a small bag out of her white coat pocket. "Only thing we got was this. I pulled it out of one of the wounds on his chest."

Olivia takes the small, sealed plastic bag from her and examines it closely, then she smiles slightly. "It's from a Stiletto. Heel cap. You pop them on for extra support and grip." She hands the bag to Elliot, who whips out a pen and signs the line on the bag to take possession of it from Warner. "She stabbed him with her shoe."

Elliot rubs a hand against his forehead, again realizing his thoughts drifting to a place they shouldn't. He remembers a night from their time in Syracuse, a party they'd attended under the guise of a couple intrigued by the lifestyle their perp had been peddling. He closes his eyes and sees her, short red dress and killer heels. Stilettos. Her long, toned legs had set every muscle in his body on fire and, because he could blame the job, the case, he'd willingly let himself burn. He clears his throat and blinks, and he shakes away the memory. "Yeah, uh," he swallows hard. "Gotta be personal."

"We should talk to his partner," she tells him, biting the inside of her bottom lip. "Maybe find out if anyone knew about this side of him," she lifts a small whip off the carpet, holds it in her gloved hand for a moment, and says, "Because I sure as hell didn't."

Elliot lets out another sigh of relief, and he nods once at Melinda Warner before nudging Olivia toward the bedroom door. When they get out into the living room, he cringes. IAB and CSU are crawling all over the place, digging through drawers and overturning couch cushions, and he whispers into Olivia's ear, "If anything ever happens to me, you need to burn anything that could be embarrassing or incriminating before these rats get to it."

She chuckles, but she turns to him and her eyes narrow. Her tone is serious as she says, "How do you expect me to do that if I'm lying there right beside you? Anything happens to you…" she scrapes her teeth over her lip. She shakes her head and looks away, not finishing her sentence, knowing he understands exactly what her point is without the words being voiced.

He inhales sharply, his lungs burning as the weight of her almost-words sinks in, and he follows as she moves toward Sergeant Tucker. "Ed," he says in a low voice, refusing to give anyone else the impression that he could be civil to the Rat Squad. "You got anything we can use?"

Tucker shakes his head. "Just a couple of wine glasses, nearly empty. One with a pretty shade of lipstick around the rim." He points his pen toward a young man in a navy jacket, dusting the glasses and wine bottle for prints. "Hoping for a hit, sooner rather than later." He looks back at them and tilts his head. "You get what you needed from Warner?"

Olivia nods as she folds her arms. "We're gonna stop at the front desk, see if the hall cameras work, get the tapes if there are any. Then, uh, we're gonna head over to the Two-Seven to talk to the guys, see if anyone knew who was seeing, who he might've been with tonight," she tells him, and then she suddenly eyes Cragen and shakes her head. "You, uh, you let us what you find, huh? Let us know when you get a name to match that pretty shade of lipstick."

Tucker nods and waves them off as he moves over to the men searching through the closet.

Olivia and Elliot walk toward the front door of Falco's apartment, stopping only to tell Fin where they're heading, and then finally, the quiet of the hallway envelopes them. As they walk, Olivia's phone buzzes, and when she checks it, she rolls her eyes. It's a message from her mother that she's refusing to read. Another plea to quit her job, another complaint that she should have become a stockbroker in Seattle, or maybe it's a drunken rant. Whatever it is, it can wait, and she shoves her phone back in her pocket as she follows Elliot around the bed toward the front desk. "Excuse me," he holds up his badge, trying to smile politely at the woman behind the marble counter.

"Yes?" she chirps, hanging up the phone and leaning forward.

"The security cameras in the halls," he begins, waving a hand upward as he sends a glance toward the ceiling, "They work?"

"Um," the woman, a young blonde with pink streaks in her hair and a nose ring, picks up the phone again and dials a number from memory. "Dad? No, uh, some of the cops need to know if the cameras work." She listens for a moment, then cups the receiver. "He said no, but told me to tell you that they're live feed only and...hold on," she resumes talking to her father, the landlord, and says to him, "No, that's exactly what you said. Okay, hold on." She looks back up at Elliot and says, "They don't record anything, but they blink so people think they do."

Elliot stifles a laugh and shakes his head. "Okay, thanks. Tell your father that someone from the housing bureau will be here to talk to him about that." He knocks on the counter and then tilts his head. "You didn't see anyone leave, did you? A woman, maybe about an hour ago?"

The girl hangs up the phone and presses her lips together as she thinks. "Yes," she snaps her fingers. "I remember thinking she looked cold because she wasn't wearing much. She ran out of here so fast, I didn't even have time to tell her that her shoe was broken."

Elliot rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure she knew that," he says. "Can you describe her?"

"Um, tall-ish, kind of blonde hair, or was it brown?" The girl pauses and thinks again, tapping a finger on her chin. "Could it have been both?" She shakes her head and then says, "Maybe a picture would help."

"I thought the cameras didn't work," Olivia states, confused.

The girl giggles. "The ones in the halls don't, but the ones by the doors do." She clicks a few buttons on the computer and then swivels her monitor around to the detectives.

Elliot takes out his phone, focuses and takes a picture of the monitor, and says, "Thanks," before looking down at his phone and rolling his eyes. "Shit," he fumes, and he unlocks it, finding a contact name and tapping it as he leads Olivia toward the front door. "I already told you, I got called into work! My lawyer is...you can't be serious, Kathy! Are you out of your…" he growls and inhales as his left fist clenches. "No, I already found a place, with enough bedrooms for the kids and...oh, go to Hell, Kathy! You did this, not me!" He hangs up and as he sends the photo of their suspect to the rest of his squad, he babbles. "Fucking insane bitch, doesn' know how to fucking let go. I swear, I am dodging a fucking bullet, here, because she…"

"El," Olivia cuts in, grabbing his arm. She holds him still as the wind kicks up, her leather jacket laps against her body as she stares at him, and she whispers, "Breathe."

He does, and as he inhales, he turns and he pulls her to him. He kisses her, hard, deep, until his lips go numb, until he can feel his fingers pressing too far into her shoulder, and he pulls away with flaring nostrils and closed eyes. "I'm fine," he spits. "She just...is so fucking...vindictive."

"What did she do now?" she asks, one ha coming up fast to brush against her reddened and chapped lips, the sting of his kiss still lingering. She walks with him, listening.

He huffs as he shoves his hands in his pockets, and he tells her, "She showed up for the meeting with her lawyer, he never told her we rescheduled, tried to make it seem like I deliberately didn't tell her, and then she…" he grunts again. "She told me she changed the locks on the house and called a realtor. Like, no shit, right? I knew, when we decided to just sell the fucking thing, she was gonna do that, that's why we got all of our stuff out of there when we did." He shakes his head and laughs. "She's really fucking pissed off that I'm not broken up over this, that I'm not…" he turns, he sees the look in her eyes. "I'm not!" he yells, his eyes severe.

"I know," she tells him, and she licks her pained lips. "We have work to do, here, I'm not ignoring your marital crisis, I'm just focusing on my job."

"Marital," he laughs, "Honey, I'm not having a marital crisis. You and me, baby, we're fucking perfect." He winks at her and says, "We have to head over to the Twenty-Seventh, so, uh, I think we should make a stop. It's on the way." He hits the button on the fob, unlocking their Ford, and he opens the door for her.

She smiles, and as she sits she thinks about how this is how he's always been with her. A gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs, and maybe he's being totally honest when he says that he's been in love with her a lot longer than he'd like to admit. Her sweet reverie is interrupted by her phone buzzing again, and she winces as she swipes the screen. She reads the message from her mother, closes her eyes, and sighs. Once she hears Elliot start the car, she says, "Good thing we're going to the Two-Seven. Something else we need to do when we get there, besides get the dirt on Falco."

"What?" He smiles at her and brushes the back of his hand against her cheek. "Baby?"

She sinks into his touch for a moment, finding solace in nuzzling his surprisingly soft, strong hand. "Pick up my mother. She, uh, she thought it was...she walked in looking for me. She's…"

"Oh, honey," he whispers, stopping her. "Okay, uh...we can swing by the house on the way back. Your mom is more important."

"No, she...she can wait," Olivia says, and she tries to smile. "Show me."

He grins and nods, and he pulls away from the curb, hoping she will have the same reaction to the house he's found and fallen in love with, and that she won't be too angry with him for already putting her name right beside his when he signed the forms to make the offer.

**A/N: Ready to see the house?**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: 'Cause there's no life worth living in if you're not with me in it (Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Her vision blurs and she sniffles as she tries like hell to keep from crying. She can blame the tears in her eyes on the wind or the smog, but she knows he'll call bullshit. "El," she whispers and it's lost in the chilly air between them.

She rakes her eyes over the house again. It's white brick facade and black trim spark memories of pretending to be drunk as they stumbled up the steps, the smoky-grey door and it's exquisite silver fixtures ignite the feeling of his hands on her, his lips on her hot skin, as they laughed and hoped the son of a bitch was watching, needing an excuse to keep playing the part. The bright-white porch lights and red metal mailbox bring her back to Syracuse, back to the two weeks of her life where she hadn't had to deal with her alcoholic mother or horrid past, traumatized children or traumatizing parents, none of it mattered, none of it existed in Syracuse.

A piece of those two weeks is right in front of her, in the middle of the harsh reality that had rudely welcomed them back to Manhattan, and she wants nothing more than to run up and in and find out if the interior was just as identical as she hopes.

"Except for the kitchen walls and bedroom carpet," his voice breaks into her whimsical thoughts, "It's exactly…" he pauses. He clears his throat and places both of his hands on her shoulders. He squeezes and rolls the heels of hands into her screaming muscles, and finally, he whispers. "It's our house, Liv. This...this is where we belong."

And there they are. The tears that she refuses to acknowledge are fully formed and falling and she lets out a sob that alerts him to the fact that she's crying.

Fuck.

He turns her around, then, and kisses her softly. With a smile, he says, "Is that a yes? You want it?" He searches her eyes. "Everything? With me?"

She sniffles again as she laughs on a choked back cry, and she nods while her hands fly to his face. "Everything?"

"Everything," he says, and it's not a question this time. He kisses her quickly and pulls her back to the car. "I'll call the realtor tomorrow morning," he lies, because he's already made an offer on the place and lets out a relieved sigh that she clearly wants it as much as he does. "Well, uh...after I call my lawyer." He rolls his eyes at the mere thought of Kathy and the marriage that hasn't quite ended, yet. It makes his stomach churn and a rumble from somewhere low in his frame boils upward into his chest. He exhales as he closes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose on the way back to the ruddy Ford. "Fuck," he spits, and he pulls on the driver's side door so hard the metal complains with a tinny squeal. He poops into the seat and slams the door, then slams both open palms against the wheel.

Wiping her eyes, Olivia gets into the passenger seat and stares blankly at him. "That's a shift in mood," she says glumly, and her look is drawn out the window to the townhouse. To her brief moment of happiness.

"Sorry," he says and he starts the car as he shakes off the fury and rage directed at the mess of his life. "Just...fucking reminded myself that…" he looks at her and he sees the way she's staring out at the brick and mortar sanctuary he'd found for them, and he changes his own tune. He smiles at her and he reaches out to brush her hair behind her ear. "You ready to get back to…"

"Work," she spits out, and it comes on a growl, a noise she's never made before, as her head turns toward him. She nods and then rolls her shoulders, ridding herself of the tension caused by Elliot's mood swings and her own nervous doubting. Seeing a townhouse that sparks such deeply real memories, knowing a man she's loved almost as long as she has known him wants to live in it with her, and then watching him plummet into a fiery fury over his marriage and divorce. Part of her thinks he isn't over it, that he's focusing all of his energy into living forever as if he was still in Syracuse because dealing with reality is too hard for him, that he can't admit he failed at the one thing his entire family had told him he'd fail at, they warned him, and he can't believe they were all right.

But then there's the part of her that knows to her very soul that he wants her, loves her, wants this life with her and it isn't just because he's pulling his marriage off of life support and letting die. If she asks him, he says it's only so the two of them can truly start to live, and that is the thought that is keeping her from smacking him silly and telling him to go back to his wife.

Work is the last thing she wants to do, but it's the only thing that will settle her nerves and push all thoughts of Kathy and lawyers and the new life that awaits her on the other side of a custody battle to the back of her mind. She checks her watch and then lets her head drop against the back of the seat. She remembers now that they have to pick up her mother after talking to their vic's former colleagues. She squeezes the bridge of her nose and inhales, hoping it was simply an error in judgment, a mixed-up address, that her mother hasn't been drinking because things have been so good lately. So fucking good. Too good.

She's been lost in thought, apparently, for quite some time because as he slaps the back of his hand against the front of her shoulder, she notices they're at the Two-Seven, and he's already halfway out of the car. She unhooks her seatbelt but before she can reach for the handle, the door swings open. His lips are on hers and his hands are cupping her face.

He hears her moan, feels the reverb against his mouth, into his throat, and he pulls her out of the car. He kicks the door closed and then pulls back from her as he says, "Okay, work, professional, right." He clears his throat, pulls on his tie as he winks at her, and then struts toward the stairs and nods at a cop who looks too familiar to be ignored but not familiar enough to merit a full-on greeting.

He pushes the glass doors open, holding one for his partner, and then with a sly grin, he falls behind her so he can stare at her ass and her hips as she walks toward the front desk.

With simultaneous badge-flashes, they breeze past the desk, through the small bypass beside the metal detector, and directly into the squadroom doors of the 27th's homicide unit. They each look around, Olivia's eyes landing on her mother while Elliot's zoom in on the unit's captain.

"Mom," Olivia whispers, heading over to the frazzled woman in the cushioned waiting chair. "What are you doing here?" She leans in as her mother stands, and as they hug Olivia exhales in relief. There is not a single whiff of liquor or scent of cigarettes, just her Chanel perfume.

Serena Benson shakes her head and offers an almost embarrassed chuckle. "I couldn't remember...one six...two seven…" she shrugs, and she says, "I wanted to come by to give you this." She holds out a thin package, wrapped in what looks like light brown butcher paper. "It's for your desk, so I thought that catching you at work would…" she waves off the words as she nudges her daughter's arm. "Open it."

Olivia raises one eyebrow as she tears some paper off of the edge, dragging her finger through the seam. "Mom, what did you…"

"I found it in the attic, cleaning out some boxes and things, and I thought…" she shrugs and taps the black frame. "This was one of your proudest moments. One of the many...many moments I am so proud of you for, and I know...I don't agree with your career choice, there are days when I regret your decisions, but I am so...proud of you." She reaches up and brushes the back of her slightly weathered hand across her daughter's cheek. "I wanted you to have that, this moment, to look at every day, when you forget or when you feel as though I'm not...you'll see this and remember." She smiles. "You'll know."

Olivia sniffles, staving off tears for the third time in less than an hour, and she stares down at the five-by-three photograph. Her in her rookie blues standing with her mother, outside of City Hall on the day she graduated from the police academy. "Mom," she whispers. "Thank you," she breathes, and she hugs the woman again. She composes herself as she says, "You, uh, you just need to wait here a little longer, um...Elliot and I...we have to…"

"Already done," Elliot's voice cuts in, and he smiles at Serena as he holds out a hand. "Nice to see you again, Ser…"

"What did I tell you, Elliot?" Serena stops him with a smirk that makes it all the more clear that she is Olivia's mother. She swats away the offered handshake and loops her arms around Elliot gently. "You call me what she calls me, now. Understand?" She backs up and nods once at him, and then catches sight of the expression on Olivia's face. It's caught somewhere between adoration and pure horror. She chuckles lightly and says, "Someone raised this young man right, you know, he thought to call me and ask permission before you two ran off to…"

"You called my mother?" Both of her eyebrows reach the top of her forehead as she stares at Elliot, who does nothing more than wink at her again. "What did you say to her? When the hell did you…"

"Later," he tells her. "We have to get your mother home, and we have to head back to the station."

Olivia shakes her head as she watches, slightly confused, as Elliot offers an arm to her mother as they leave. "We're here to talk to Green and…"

"Briscoe," Elliot finishes. "Yeah, he left five minutes ago, heading to the One-Six to talk to us. Says he has something we need to see."

Olivia walks in step with him, holding her photo frame in her hand, and she lowers her voice for her mother's sake. "So he knows Falco is dead?"

"Yeah, baby," Elliot sighs. "He knows. They all know." He pulls open the door and holds it, this time for Serena as he looks into Olivia's eyes. "His killer told them."

**A/N: GASP?! A conversation with Lenny Briscoe, Ed Green, and then a romantic dinner with... the kids?**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I'm not a soldier...But you make me wanna be brave. Yeah, you do. (Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Run that by me again," Elliot squeezes the bridge of his nose and squints hard, his free hand gripping the edge of his metal desk as he leans against it.

Lenny Briscoe holds out his hands and kicks one foot up on the opposite leg. "I can say it seven more times in three different languages, including Hebrew, it won't make any more sense than it does now."

Olivia chuckles under her breath, realizing that Lenny is simply an older, less Catholic, more Jewish version of Elliot. A glimpse into her future is sitting in front of her. She inhales and for the first time in a month her chest doesn't burn or tighten. "She called you, told you what she did, and then…"

"Then told us to meet her here, at noon," Briscoe says, nodding once. "I'm guessing this was self-defense, or…"

Elliot interrupts, shaking his head and wagging a finger, trying to choke back the gag building in him as he remembers what they'd walked in on earlier that morning. "No, uh, definitely not. Falco was gagged, strapped down, hands tied behind his back, feet tied to the bedposts...he was completely at the mercy of...whoever she is."

"Why would she turn herself in if it was obviously murder?" Ed Green crosses his arms and scoots himself closer to Olivia. On a breath, he catches her perfume, the muted orange and something spicy filling his lungs and making him forget where he is for a moment. He blinks and presses his lips together as he hooks his ankles in front of him.

"Maybe it isn't," Olivia offers, oblivious to Green's advances. "There were a lot of toys in that apartment. Whips, chains, things that would make a good little Catholic blush."

"You didn't blush," Elliot notes, raising a brow, then hitching and stiffening at the sight of Green inching closer to his partner. His Olivia.

Her eyes on Elliot's, a grin playing at her lips, Olivia says, "I'm not Catholic." She shrugs once. "And I've been doing this job so long...I wouldn't, even if I was." Her grin fades as the gravity of their case settles back in. "So...so maybe it's S & M gone wrong? Bondage games got outta hand?"

"If this was an accident, it makes sense she would call the cops," Elliot states, moving from his desk to a spot conveniently located between Green and Olivia, and he hooks his thumbs through his belt loops. "Wanted to go home and change, couldn't take being interrogated and arrested wearing...uh, what she was wearing." He scratches a spot behind his ear as he twists his embarrassed smile to the side.

Olivia hides the smile well. She absolutely loves his rough exterior, his brawn and his tattoos, his grit and his temper, his ferocity and his fire. But...there's a side of him that is modest. He is by no means in any way a prude. He has kinks and he bites and he scratches, he has incredible stamina and can keep her cumming for close to an hour. Still, he believes in sex being special, sex with her, only her. He respects people who deserve respect, and he would never objectify a woman even if they were blatantly asking him to.

Fuck, she loves him and she's realizing she's in too fucking deep now.

"We'll see," Green says with a sneer in his voice as he tried to discern the looks passing from Olivia to Elliot. He's pretty damn sure he's never looked at Lenny in quite the same way. "So what do we do when she…"

"Excuse me?" A meek voice interrupts him and a petite young woman in head to toe grey sweats steps closer to the four detectives. "I, um...I need to talk to someone…"

Before she can finish talking, Olivia is beside her helping her into the nearest chair. They speak in whispers and Olivia takes the young woman's hands before shooting a slight look over at Elliot, and she shakes her head telling him this is not their potential perp, but another vic seeking help and solace from the only people in the city who could give it to her.

"Did you trace the call?" Elliot points the question toward Briscoe as he presses three fingers around the bridge of his nose and sighs. He's pretty sure no one is coming, that these detectives have let a murderer go without a second thought. He's starting to think maybe they came to him and Olivia to pass the buck and use them to find the one that got away. "Well?" he prods when no one answers him.

"No, she spoke fast and hung up before we could get a read," Briscoe states, and he runs his hand over his face.

"And now you want me and Liv to clean up your mess," he says, finally voicing the thought that had been gnawing its way to the surface. He sighs and shakes his head and then shoots a look back at Cragen's closed door. "He already wants us off this case because he…"

"Knows Benson and the Vic had a thing," Briscoe interrupts.

The glare that Elliot gives him as his head whips back around would frighten even the grizzliest best into submission. A vein in his neck throbs once. "One date, ended badly. Hardly a thing. Never slept with him."

Briscoe gulps as he nods. "Oh," he clears his throat. "So, uh, what you're telling me is you don't think this girl is coming in to talk."

He rolls his eyes and is about to give a snarky reply when another woman barrels into the bullpen. It's not their mysterious suspect, but someone equally as unexpected and more unwelcome. Elliot stiffens as he moves and before anyone else can intercept, he grabs the woman's arm and pulls her to the farthest corner and spits out a hard and heavy, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Kathy yanks her arm out of his grip and smooths out her shirt where his curled fingers have crinkled the fabric. She darts her eyes around the room for a moment, noticing the newness of the paint and the fresh tiles, and she pales slightly. She remembers the sound in Cragen's voice when he had called, the words that didn't make sense and seemed so out of order still echo in her ears.

_Blew up...Elliot...staircase...gone...emergency...bomb squad...Elliot. _She isn't sure why she recalls hearing his name twice, but it stings with each mental utterance, and then a pang of guilt hits because she's positive Cragen must've said something about Olivia but she doesn't care enough to remember how or why.

"Kathy," Elliot barks at her, snapping her to full attention like one of his inferior marines from what seems like a lifetime ago. "You can't just come down here like this anymore. You need to…"

And it's her kiss that silences him. Her lips on his, her hands searching blindly for his tie and collar, the desperation clear in the small, short whimpers that escape as she tries so incredibly hard to pry open his mouth and make more of this than there needs to be. Her heart shatters and her voice cries slightly when she feels herself being pushed back hard. Her eyes sting and water as she watches with a pained face as he uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the remnants of her that linger too long on his lips. She's silent.

"What...the hell?" His eyes are narrow and the blue of them is now almost black. He takes a step back and points at her. "What the fuck are you trying to…"

"Please," she whispers, it's meek and almost pathetically innocent. "I...I don't know how to…" she shrugs once. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I needed some attention and I needed to feel loved...alive. I wasn't getting any of that from you, so I…"

"Slept with half of Queens," Elliot growled. He sees Kathy flinch at his words and he knows his more aggressive asshole side is showing. He closed his eyes and looks away and hisses, "Apologies don't change anything."

She licks her lips and her eyes fall to his hands, resting on his hips, and her already broken heart cracks a bit more. "That's not…" she points. "That's not your wedding band. What...what is that?"

He smirks only enough to let her know he's keeping a secret. "Please," he scoffs. "I took my ring off the minute I found out what you did. And this…" he stares at his left hand, the platinum glimmering in the fluorescence of the squadroom. He smiles, the meaning and emotion behind such a small piece of jewelry ignites all of his senses and makes him more certain about the direction his life is taking. "This isn't…" he pauses and looks up at her. "Well, obviously this has nothing to do with you."

"My lawyer...told me you needed to reschedule our…" she takes a breath. "I thought you were stalling, that you didn't…"

"Kathy, I have already signed papers twice, and I'm buying a house for me and the kids and…" he can't hide his smile but he won't give Kathy the satisfaction of knowing what it all means. "And I am absolutely not having any second thoughts about this. Just like you never gave me a second thought before hopping into bed with someone else." He feels the cage burn his eyes and for a moment he wonders if he's truly over it, if he is only taking things too far too fast to hurt the woman who hurt him, but he shakes it off. He laughs at himself. He wasn't really that hurt, and the only woman who could shatter him that way, could but never will, is behind him giving a rape victim a glimmer of hope. He turns to look at her and every ounce of fury and vengeance dissolves into nothing but pure love.

Kathy stares at him, watches his face, and suddenly it all makes sense. She narrows her eyes and she folds her arms. "You're with her, aren't you?"

"I'm in the middle of a case," Elliot states coldly as he turns back to her. "Vic is a cop. As much as I would love to stand here and talk about Liv all night, I can't do it with you. Not right now. You need to leave, and if you want to talk to me…"

"Call your lawyer," she said with a nod, and she holds her breath as her chest tightens. She backs away and she watches his body move toward Olivia as she sighs and surrenders.

Elliot freezes on his way to his partner, watching in awe as the once distraught woman wraps her arms around Olivia and thanks her more than once. He moves forward again and places one hand on Olivia's shoulder once he sees her vic is heading out. "Everything okay?"

She looks at him. She won't tell him that she has heard his entire conversation with Kathy, not yet. She smiles and nods. "Fine," she says, and she is about to say something else when a man in a white coat rushes into the room.

Both pairs of eyes dart to the lab tech and Elliot drops his hand from Olivia's body as he walks over and says, "Whatcha got, Ry?"

Ryan O'Halloran holds up a short stack of papers and then slaps them into Elliot's hand. "DNA from your crime scene. Two samples. One was obviously Nick Falco. The other…"

"The woman who killed him?" Green asks, both proving he's still in the room and inserting himself back into the case.

O'Halloran turns. "No," he eyes Elliot again. "Specimen is definitely male. So either the woman who ran out of the building wasn't your killer…"

Briscoe rises and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Or she wasn't really a woman." He looks at Green. "Not biologically, I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't, man," Green chuckles, humored at the way his aging partner struggles to defend his politically correct mind. "You got a hit? A name?"

Elliot holds up the papers and eyes Olivia for a moment. He knows her reaction is going to be something between horrified and nonplussed. "Victor Spicer."

Her eyes widen, her mind races, and suddenly it's not Syracuse she remembers, but one of the most important, heartbreaking, and traumatic cases she and Elliot had ever worked.

She exhales and she moves to the phone to call a contact at Rikers, eager to get to the bottom of things fast. She has plans tonight. With Elliot.

**A/N: GASP?! Spicer? How? We found out...and then that romantic dinner with Elliot...and the kids?**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I'm not a soldier...But you make me wanna be brave. Yeah, you do. (Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Man, that brought back memories, huh?" He throws his coat on a hook as he kicks the door closed.

Olivia chuckles as she tosses her keys into a glass bowl on the coffee-ring deckled side table. "Well, yeah," she says, shuffling through the pile of mail in her hands. "It wasn't that long ago, to start, and that was…" she closes her eyes and inhales, the pain of that particular case hitting her between her chest and her stomach.

His hands are on her shoulders before she exhales, squeezing and rubbing. "I know," he whispers, and he kisses the back of her head softly. He moves one hand, palming over her left breast, moaning almost inaudibly, before laying it over her stomach. "At least he, uh, confessed this time."

She laughs again. "You scared the shit out of him." Her eyebrow quirks and she turns slightly to peer at him over her shoulder. "Maybe not, I think maybe you excited him a little too much and he couldn't wait to see if you were telling the truth."

"You know I was," he almost growls, and he thrusts his hips, rubbing himself against her ass, proving a point. "But you're the only one in the world who knows that, first hand, baby. The only one who ever, uh…"

"You have four kids," she says, turning around in his arms. "Unless they all came from a turkey baster…"

He laughs, stopping her, and he kisses her tenderly. "I meant...uh, you know...you're the only one I've given all of myself to, in every fucking way." He kisses her forehead, and then both of her cheeks, and then her lips, and it isn't until a throat clears that they realize they're not alone in the apartment.

As they turn, Elliot's brother wags his eyebrows and crosses his arms. "Now, uh, the little rugrats keep telling me you're their new mommy, but, uh...I doubt it's gonna take long for my brother to actually knock you up."

"Shut up, Dill," Elliot cracks, shooting the middle finger up at his brother, Dillon, and he kisses Olivia again before asking, "Where are the kids?"

"In the bed watching some Disney movie on my laptop," he tells them, and he eyes Olivia. His gaze runs up and down her body and he shakes his head. "Lucky little brother," he says too loud to be snide but too soft to be jealous. "They're asking for pizza."

"Of course they are," Olivia says with a laugh, and she unhooks gets arms from Elliot to go talk to the kids and order pizza. On the way, she notices the whiter walls, the cleaner floors, the refinished closet doors, and she knows that Elliot got his brother to fix up the place in preparation to rent it out to someone new.

Elliot watches her disappear behind the bedroom door and he shoves his hands in his pockets. "She likes the place," he says with a smirk and a shrug, and he kicks one foot in front of the other, crossing his ankles as he leans back against the wall and rolls his tongue around the inside of his cheek.

Dillon chuckles. "Congrats, man, but, uh...you're not divorced, yet, and Kathy seems to think…"

"Kathy's always thought a lot of things that weren't true," Elliot snaps, and the shift in his mood is quick and ferocious. "At least...they weren't, then."

"Please," Dillon rolls his eyes. "The whole damn family knows you and Olivia were…"

"No," Elliot barks firmly, lowly. He points a finger at his brother and he shakes his head. "I never laid a finger...or anything else…" he stops and throws both hands up. "I know everyone expected me to, okay! I'm even amazed I didn't make a move any sooner than I did, but, fuck, Kathy cheated on me! She's the one that fucking threw our entire lives down the goddamned toilet! She's the one who fucked…"

"Elliot!" Olivia's voice interrupts his fury as her hands clutch Lizzie tightly to her.

His eyes snap up and his head whips in the direction of her scolding, he immediately softens as he sees all four of his kids and Olivia staring back at him. "Hey, guys," he says sheepishly, and he moves to immediately wrap his arms around Olivia, who's still holding his youngest daughter. He kisses her temple and whispers, "I love you."

In return, she scoffs and puts Lizzie down as she says, "Pizza's on the way." She sees the look on Elliot's face, the way the muscles on the left side of his mouth contract and release with tension and it's then she caves. "I love you," she says in a hushed tone, as if the words would burn her tongue if they'd been any louder, admitting it scalds her gums.

"Hey," he says, and he pulls her close. "I wasn't...God, I don't miss her, I'm not holding a grudge because I would still be with her if she didn't…" he licks his lips and exhales harshly, and then he looks into her eyes. "I have told you a thousand times...I had every intention of taking this chance with you as soon as fucking possible. I just...I'm allowed to be angry, right? This is not how it's supposed to happen, okay? It was supposed to be this mutual 'fuck you' and then I was supposed to sell the Range Rover and change all the locks on the house while she shoved everything she could into the back of her Acura."

She laughs, rolls her eyes, and nods. "Yeah, yeah," she chuckles, and then she lets out the breath that's caught in her throat, she looks up at him, and she leans into him slightly. "We should…"

He doesn't let her finish. He kisses her and his hands find their way down the sides of her cotton shirt, come to rest on her hips and slowly slide into the back pockets of her black pants. His palms rest on the curves of her ass as his fingertips press into her through the thin fabric. He moans softly and then growls as he deepens the kiss, and for what it is, it's romance and passion and pure possession despite Dillon's watchful eyes and the knowledge that four kids under twelve are a few feet away.

She pulls back, breathless, trembling, and she clears her throat as she licks her lips. "Um," she utters, and she licks her lips again while running her ringed fingers through her hair. She turns to Dillon and smiles, hoping he doesn't mistake the flush in her cheeks for anything directed at him. "Thanks," she says with a nod. "I'm sure you'll be able to get your life back, ya know, once you don't have to watch the kids for…"

Dillon holds up a hand and shakes his head with a grin that proves he's related to Elliot. "You two don't talk much, do you?"

She squints. He has a point. Since the day the bomb went off in the station, they've been doing other things with their mouths, and talking fell to the bottom of the list. "What?" she folds her arms and sends a threatening glance in Elliot's direction.

Elliot, though, is aiming his own building rage toward his brother. The vein in his neck is popping more than usual, his nostrils are flaring, and his knuckles are cracking all on their own. "I was gonna tell her over dinner, shithead." He runs a heavy hand down his face, takes a breath, and slowly turns back to Olivia. "You know, uh, things with Kathy...um…" he scratches behind his ear, half embarrassed and half unsure, "They're pretty fucked. But, uh, Stevenson...now that we have a place...with five bedrooms…" he trails off, hoping she's following his trail of verbal breadcrumbs, and when she does little more than blink, he chuckles. "We might need Dillon to hang around. In fact, uh, he wants this place. Once we move out...he already talked to your landlord, and it makes sense, right? He can pick the kids up from school, take them back here...to a place that's familiar, comfortable, and we can swing by and pick them up on the way…" he clears his throat. "On the way home."

Her breath hitches as she hears the word leave his lips. Home. Something she hasn't felt, hasn't truly had, not before him, anyway. Home. What she can admit now, is that during their time upstate, in Syracuse, when playing pretend turned into promises kept and a case of playing house became a practice run for the rest of their lives...was the only time she'd ever felt home.

From somewhere that seems miles away, the doorbell rings. "Pizza!" one of the girls shouts, and she can't tell which one because her brain is foggy and her ears are buzzing. She snaps out of her haze as she feels herself being pulled toward the front door. She blinks and her head clears, and suddenly she's watching eleven-year-old Maureen carrying three large pies to the kitchen counter.

Dillon flipped open the boxes as the other kids grabbed paper plates and pulled apart the cheesy slices, but before she steps any closer, she's pulled back again. With a laugh, she turns and she swats at his hands. "Will you stop?"

He sucks his lip between his teeth and shakes his head as he pulls her toward the couch. He sits and yanks her body down onto his, confident that the kids are obliviously eating their pizza and playing paper-towel basketball with their uncle. He shifts his weight and lets her body fold into the center of his lap, one hand hooks with hers as the other toys with her hair, and he thumbs over her rings with a sigh. "As far as I'm concerned, these are real."

She drops her gaze and says, "Well, Tucker said they sprung for platinum, I don't know if the diamonds…"

"Not what I meant," he retorts, and he's staring into her eyes in a way he never has before, his fingers still tangling with hers. "Liv," he says almost desperately. "Do I have to say it? Do I have to ask?"

She's taken aback, as this is the first time he's even brought up the unvoiced question, the final step in making this relationship a fortress. "Well, I…"

"Olivia Benson," he interrupts, lifting her hand to his face. He kisses each knuckle softly. "At some point in the future…" he drags his eyes upward to meet hers. "Will you…"

The phone in his pocket rings and it makes her jump, her already rapidly beating heart skips as she practically hyperventilates. She closes her eyes as he kisses her and she feels his body move beneath her in efforts to answer the ringing phone.

"Stabler," he says, and he grimaces at the sound of the voice on the other end. "Yeah, home. With the kids. Why?" He bends his head and softly, quietly, kisses Olivia. He's certain the light, wet smacking sounds can be heard through the phone, but he doesn't seem to give a shit. "Mmm-hmm," he hums, still kissing Olivia, "Right, Cap." He feels her starting to pull away but he holds her tighter, keeps her still, kisses her again. "See you tomorrow."

She feels him move again, knows he hung up, and she lets him make more of things. She wraps her arms around his neck and asks, "What did he want?"

"Says we need to see him first thing in the morning," he tells her, and he blindly reaches for the plate of pizza his brother is holding out to him. He works one hand free and folds the slice over itself, lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite, and then offers it to Olivia. He watches her bite as he chews. After he swallows, he says, "He said he has a surprise for us."

She stops chewing. Her face is frozen. She turns and spies the kids at the counter, eating and laughing, and she swallows. She inhales and she feels his hands move back to her body, and as her eyes close in defeat, she realizes she can't take any more surprises. She hopes, at least, what Cragen has in store isn't going to be as bad as she thinks.

**A/N: Who says surprises are bad?**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: ****Through the depths of despair, we've stumbled. And all that distance between us, we've crumbled. We've ignored all of the rumors and jealous disapprovals. And we've come out the other side with something…** **(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Olivia sits in the large leather chair by the door, one hand gripping the cushioned armrest, the other near her chin, two fingers in her mouth, cuticles being gnawed to bits. When Cragen says he has a surprise for someone, it usually comes with a few days of unpaid leave and a new red mark in their jackets, but today it's an actual surprise, and her stomach is doing backflips because of it.

"I don't know what to say," Elliot speaks in the silence, his eyes are focused on the wall behind Cragen's desk, the framed certificates and accolades staring smugly back at him. "Cap, this is…" he clears his throat. "Who, uh, who called you about this?"

"Does it matter?" Cragen asks back with a grin. He crosses his arms and leans against his foreboding oak desk, the one piece of furniture in the office that proves he has some kind of power here. The metal folding cot and shaky wooden bookcases could just as easily fit into a college freshman's dorm room. "All that matters is...you need it, I have it. I'm giving it to you. Your kids can get off of Liv's floor, I'm sure she'd love to disinfect the couch once your ass is off of it, and no," he says, raising a finger, "This is not a loan, you will not pay me back, you understand me?"

Elliot nods and tries to smile without seeming as ecstatic as he is, and he eyes Olivia for a moment. He clearly sees the green tinge to her complexion and the redness in her eyes that only comes when she wants to cry but can't. He thinks back to the phone call that woke him out of a sound sleep, the voice on the other end apologizing for rousing him and making him peel his naked body away from Olivia's, and he exhales. His lawyer's words ring loudly in his ears. _If you can't put the full deposit down by five o'clock tonight, the judge will have to consider your current living arrangement in his final ruling, which he plans to hand down at six. I'm sorry, Elliot. _He blinks again, and suddenly it hits him.

"Cap," he starts, and he clears his throat. Cragen had to have known about the situation before he called last night, known before his lawyer, before him. "Was it Kathy?" He hears a painful but soft noise come from Olivia and he knows she's thinking the same thing. Kathy has a habit of trying to make his life fucking hell, and when she can't get him on a technicality, she tries to get to him at work. "She thought you'd have to dig into my pension or something, screw with my financials because now, she knows that Liv is the one…"

"Elliot, just shut up and take the money," Cragen spits almost venomously as if even hinting at the truth about Elliot and Olivia's relationship will make his head explode, and he breathes. "Wire the money to the realtor, call your lawyer, and take your kids home to sleep in real beds tonight."

Elliot turns again to Olivia, and he leans in to whisper something to her, but she glares at him and lets him know without words that it's unwise to do it. He furrows his brows, and suddenly he wonders if he was too rough with her in the shower, or if his mild overassertive dominance last night has somehow scared her. He backs up a bit and he licks his lips, stands, and moves toward Cragen. He gives the man a handshake and then laughs as he's pulled into a fatherly hug. He closes his eyes and exhales, one hand still in his captain's grip, the other resting on the older man's shoulder. He's realizing that his relationship with Cragen is more paternal than anything he'd ever had with his own father, and he has no idea how he'll ever be able to repay him for it all. "Thank you," he whispers, too afraid of the emotion in his voice to speak it any louder.

Cragen slaps Elliot's back twice and then backs away, clearing his throat and rubbing both of his eyes with one hand. "Don't mention it, son," he says, and he just a chin toward the door. "Back to work, both of you," he says, and he smiles at each one of them before watching them leave his office.

"That was…" Olivia hesitates, she darts her eyes around the room that is still too freshly refurbished to be considered normal, and then she finishes, "Unexpected."

Elliot nods as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and immediately dials his lawyer's number, and because it's too early for anyone else to be there, and Cragen is behind them behind a closed door, he kisses her softly. He hopes she understands it's an apology for whatever it is he has down, for whatever it was that's causing her any hurt. "I love you," he whispers, and he rolls his eyes. "Not you, pal," he chuckles as he speaks to his realtor, and he walks toward his desk to relay the great news and give him the information for the wire transfer Cragen has given him.

From her spot in front of Cragen's door, Olivia watches. She takes in the way his suit fits him differently, the way the colors seem brighter - the grey is more charcoal and less stormy sky, the blue of his shirt is more ocean than jail cell. It matches his eyes, which are brighter in their own rite. She sees his smile, it reaches his ears and makes three small lines form at the corners of his eyes, and she honestly doesn't remember ever seeing such pure happiness on his face like this. She takes a single step, and immediately she looks down at the waxed tile, the sound of her heel clicking against it is louder than usual, echoing around the room. She squints, it means something, she thinks.

Elliot waves to her then, calling her over to him, and she moves obediently, a pink flush overtaking her cheeks as she recalls his commands and demands in bed. She slips into her chair and rests her elbows on the desk, her chin on her hands. "What?"

"He's in a good mood," Elliot says, pointing in the direction of Cragen's office. "Think he'll let us go home and finish packing?"

"You," she shrugs slightly, "You and the kids need to pack. I can't…"

"Wait, hold on," he snaps instantly, his pointing finger now aimed at her, the line of sight directly at her nose. "You're moving into that house, I mean, fuck, the whole reason I even…"

"Hey, Captain Conniption," she barks, stopping his tirade, "You can't expect me to pack up an entire apartment in eight hours! You and the kids can pack and move your shit over there, tonight, but it may take me a bit longer!" She runs one of her hands up her face, over her head, through her hair. "Christ, you need to stop jumping to conclusions, control your temper and watch what you're saying around here. You wanna get us both fired?"

He pales, realizing she's right, and he lowers his hand and softens his gaze. "Sorry, I just…" he bites the inside of his cheek for a moment, his eyes falling to her neck, the collar of her green shirt hides the purple heart-shaped hickey he's tattooed on her skin, and he says, "You were pretty quiet this morning, I could tell you were...upset, so I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about this. Us."

She grunts and nods, her eyes raising and lowering fast. "Oh, I've had second thoughts," she tugs at the cuffed sleeves around her wrists, a nervous habit she can't seem to break. "And third thoughts. Fourth, fifth...I think I'm up to my nineteenth thoughts, but…" she holds her arms out and up, palms upturned. "Here we are, still…" she twists her left wrist and wiggles her fingers, making her diamonds dance in the light. She can't bring herself to say the word 'married' in any capacity right now; it hurts too much to build on the lie.

"What's wrong?" He asks the question, hopeful that the answer is as simple as _I have cramps, _but if he's being truly honest, that would break his heart. They haven't exactly been careful, and the wish for a baby has been made in the back of his mind several times.

With a deep breath, she reaches into the right-side pocket of her black pants. She slips her thin phone out, raises it, taps in her passcode, and then hands it to him with an almost defeated look on her face. "Listen to the last voicemail," she orders, and then slumps backward, her back hitting the chair hard enough to make it lean and wobble.

Puzzled, Elliot taps the message icon, and his eyes narrow even more when he sees who left the message. He taps the name, lifts the phone to his ear, and all at once, Olivia's nausea and ire make perfect sense. "I'm gonna kill her," he grits out through clenched-together teeth, "You're gonna help me."

"Wait," she laughs spitefully, "It gets better."

Something Kathy says makes his eyes pop, his brows rise to meet his hairline, and he looks up in time to see Ed Tucker coming through the squadroom doors. "If I kill Kathy, you gonna book me?" he says to his frenemy, staring him down as he moves closer.

Tucker shakes his head and lets his hands slip into his pockets. "Temporary insanity, self-defense, or justifiable homicide?"

"All of the above," Elliot seethes, handing the phone back to Olivia before looking at her. "Nothing she said…" he clears his throat, and only because Tucker fucking knows everything, he lets his guard down. "Baby, it's not gonna happen, okay? Nothing she said has any basis in reality, and you know, even if she did do anything she…"

"When did you talk to my mother?" she asks suddenly, and she knows it's coming out of nowhere, but if she gets an answer, she can ignore everything Kathy said in that ferocious message. "Elliot?" she prods, because he's staring at her like a deer in headlights, unmoving, unblinking, unnerving.

Elliot looks over at Tucker, sends up a silent prayer to God that he won't ask questions, and he blinks once before turning his attention back to Olivia. He knows what he's about to say will shock her, scare her, but he also knows it will finally convince her that he's serious and he's been fucking serious for a lot longer than she knows. "Uh, the first time?"

Olivia's left eyebrow quirks and her heart stops. "First time? You called her more than once?"

He nods with his lip poking out between his tightly closed lips. "Three times," he confesses as he holds up as many fingers. "Once," he purses and twists his lips to the side of his face. "About two years ago. Because, uh, I thought...I dunno, I needed to introduce myself. Maybe, remind her who I was, tell her that…" he clears his throat. "What my intentions were."

"Two...you said, two years? You'd only known me for a year, then, what could you have possibly said to her?" She's staring at him with a confusion on her face she's sure has never before existed.

"I told her, um," he blushes slightly, "Promised to protect you, keep you safe. I apologized for anything you ever said about me and told her I wasn't really a…" he paused and chuckled. "You called me an 'alphahole,' what the hell is that?"

She smirks at him, rakes her hand through her hair, and she says, "An alpha male who's also an asshole."

He laughs and then says, "Okay, not gonna deny that," he winks at her and says, "The second time I called her was after…" he drops his eyes and his smirk becomes a smile, soft and warm, as if he's remembering the birth of his first child and the death of his father at the same time. Peacefully painful. "After Tanzic shot himself," he tilts his head and scratches behind his ear. "After I took you home, while you were in the shower, I called her. Apologized for what that son of a bitch did to her…" he looks up, then, the pain gone, the peace remaining, and he lets his eyes lock onto hers. "But I told her, for all of the trauma it caused...it brought me you. I told her that the worst night of her life...led to the best thing in mine. I told her...that I loved you, and you…"

"You told her you loved me, a year ago?" She blinks and sniffles, realizing she's crying, and she brushes her knuckles under her eyes as she asks, "Why would you tell her that before you…"

"Because I felt like she needed to know how much you mean to me, how much you mean to...so many fucking people," he exhales and sits up a bit straighter. "Look, I know she hates your job, and I know that every time you talk to her, she tries to convince you to take that law degree you think no one knows you have and become a securities attorney on Wall Street, so I...I told her how many lives you change by being part of this unit, that it's helping you heal as much as it is the victims, and that if there had been a detective like you around when that bastard attacked her...then she wouldn't have tried to find hope at the bottom of a bottle."

"But you told her…" she sniffles again, his words hitting parts of her buried so deeply beneath layers of avoidance and apprehension that she'd forgotten they existed.

"I know what I told her," he nods slightly. "She needed to know that someone loves you...even on the days where it was hard for her to, and I did love you then, as much as I do now. That's...that's actually why I called her a month ago, when we...it was the night we came home. I called her and I asked her...for her permission, her blessing...because I wanted to marry you. I told her it would be just a small thing, you and me and two witnesses from work, the courthouse on a lunch break because we just couldn't wait." He laughs at his brazenness, and then he says, "I had every intention of proposing to you that night, but when we got back here...Kathy was waiting for me, and Rob…"

"Yeah," she grimaces at the mention of his name. "I know."

He shrugs and then shifts in his seat, pulls at the bottom of his jacket sleeves, and says, "I knew you'd think I was insane, probably turn me down and then hate me...and everything I had lied with you so...I couldn't wreck that. I kept the ring, and I thought to myself, shit, the instant you'd give me some sort of sign that you'd accept such an asinine proposal...we were jumping the broom and it was going right back on my finger." He glances at his outstretched hands and wags his left fingers a bit, laughing. "Kind of what happened, only two weeks later than planned."

The color in her face fades back to its healthy tan; the nausea faded a while ago but now it's fully vacated the premises, and all that remains of the rage that took over when she heard Kathy's last-ditch effort to get her husband back is nothing more than a small red patch of hives on the back of her right hand. "You...we could have…" she clears her throat and stiffens as if only realizing Ed Tucker is literally standing right beside her, and she swallows back hard and slowly reaches for Elliot's left hand. He gives it to her, and as he strokes the side of her hand with his thumb, her fingers slip over and around his ring. What it means? What it truly symbolizes? She gets it now, and for all intents and purposes, she is a happily married woman. "I knew...I knew everything she said was complete bullshit because we...we talked, and you told me you haven't even…"

"Yeah," Elliot whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. "So this is really just a ploy to either make you jealous enough to leave me or make me weak enough to run back to her, but she doesn't know me very well." He shrugs. "She never really has." He smiles at her and says, "Not like you."

Ed gurgles a bit, soothing the itch at the back of his throat, and then he speaks up for the first time in the ten minutes he's been watching and listening to the heartbreaking exchange. "Well, uh, first off...congratulations, maybe you two can finally stop whimpering at each other like sick puppies and get some fucking work done around here." He grins when they laugh, and then he slaps his now ringless hand onto Olivia's shoulder. "And now you know this isn't just him making a few rebound shots," he tells her with a curt nod. At her bemused expression, he says, "We talk."

"Why are you here, Eddie?" Elliot cuts in, and he looks around. "No one's even gotten a call, yet, so how could we have…"

"You don't," Tucker interrupts. "I just wanted to update you two on the situation with Lake and his Vidocqs on a rampage," he quips. "We nailed the assholes, got 'em in the tank, and one of them finally gave us a name."

Olivia eyes him for a moment. "A name? What name?"

"Someone tipped them all off, told them the humps they were after were in New York," he explains, and he looks at Elliot. "The same person convinced them it would be the best idea to go after them on their own, shoot to kill, and with any luck, finally get the two of you involved." He glances at Olivia and he notices the way she's looking at him now isn't as disdainful as usual, and he takes a relieved breath. "Did a little digging, and it's the same person who tipped off Hillard and hooked Spicer up with Falco." His eyes dance in the space between Olivia and Elliot, a back and forth Tango he can't quite finish off, until he settles on Elliot. "The guy wants the two of you to play his game, and so far, you have been. But what's pissing him off is that you're winning."

"Game?" Elliot scoffs. "What are you talking about? What guy?"

Ed folds his arms and he shoots a look over his shoulder, watching the other detectives and officers milling about and Cragen's door open and close. He spins back to Elliot and lowers his voice. "You don't know anyone who got a little too used to calling the shots? Needs the two of you on his side of the net to spike the ball when he faceplants?" He shoots Olivia a smoky look. "Someone who wants you on the other side of his bed in the morning?"

She tilts her head and her face belies the grim realization. "No," she exhales, refusing to believe it, not wanting her worst guess to be accurate. "You're telling me that every case we've had since we got home has been…"

"Completely orchestrated by Agent Dean Porter," Tucker says, and he nods with closed eyes, his lip caught between his teeth. "Yeah." He looks over his shoulder again. "I need to go break the news to your captain and hopefully ward off any more of this prick's maneuvers." He looks at Olivia again, and then at Elliot, "We'll talk later," he says, and he turns on his heels and heads for Cragen's office.

There's a fire in his eyes, a fierce determination. It's one thing to mess with the cops in his city, to screw with his detectives, but it's quite another to fuck with his friends and family. He raises a fist and bangs it against the oak door, growling under his breath.

Behind him, Olivia and Elliot sit in stunned silence until Elliot speaks. "Porter wants to play games?"

Olivia smirks, knowing exactly what her hypothetically technical husband is thinking. "Game on."

**A/N: Porter's next move is headed off by someone, but whom? And the final showdown between Elliot, Kathy, and a lawyer who won't take no for an answer. But what's the question? And maybe some...love? **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: ****Learning from the tears and the mistakes. We're not perfect but we've come such a long way** **(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Your honor," Eric Stevenson smiles as charmingly as he can and eyes the judge almost placatingly. "I have submitted several key pieces of evidence that speak, not only to Kathy Stabler's emotional state but her willingness and ability to manipulate and deceive…"

"If you have a point," Judge Laramie holds up both of his hands, "Please get to it." He lifts up the wide bell sleeve of his black robe and checks his watch. "I am doing this as a favor to Judge McCarthy, and I do have a million other things to do, so please, make your statement so I can rule." He peers at the young attorney and flattens his lips.

Stevenson clears his throat and tugs on his suit jacket. "Detective Stabler is, forgive the pun, the stabler parent, here, Your Honor. He is more gainfully employed, he is able to provide each child their own room, he is more than willing to work out any and all visitations with their mother, and I don't think I need to remind you that my client is the injured party, here." He holds up a beige folder. "I also took the liberty and asked each child who they prefer to live with, and they unequivocally and unanimously replied that they are the most comfortable and the happiest with their father." He smiles. "And finally, Your Honor, while Kathy Stabler has quite vocally ascertained that she will be forced to raise the children as a single mother if this divorce is granted, which would be a great disservice to these beautiful children, Detective Stabler will not be struggling to handle things by himself. He will have help from his brother, Dillon, his sister, Caitlin, and full-time support and partnership from Detective Olivia Benson."

"Excuse me?" Kathy's voice rises as she stiffens and glares at the lawyer. "What the hell did you just say?" She turns sharply to Elliot and shouts, "You're letting that tramp move into the house with you and my children?"

"Order!" Laramie slams a gavel down once, "Order!" He bangs the gavel again, and then he points to Kathy. "You will control yourself in my courtroom, Missus Stabler! Another outburst like that, and not only will I throw your entire counterclaim out the window, but I will hold you in contempt!"

Kathy's lawyer snorts. "This is a divorce hearing, Your Honor, you can't…" he sees the way the judge is looking at him and he retreats, sinking low and folding his arms, crinkling his blue suit.

Satisfied that he has control over his courtroom, the judge glares at Stevenson and points a finger. "As for you, I've already made my decision, so your vapid tirade was pointless." He glances down at the paperwork in front of him, hums a bit, and then eyes Elliot. He frowns slightly, shifts his gaze over the redwood table until it lands on Olivia. He frowns some more. He lifts a hand to his head, rubs and scratches, and says, "It's not yearly salary or living arrangements that pushed my decision over the edge." He holds up a piece of paper. "It is the blatant disregard for boundaries and lack of respect! This statement from Captain Donald Cragen is abhorrent, Missus Stabler, and frankly, anyone who will stoop to such lows and blindside another human being out of sheer jealousy. Now, I have been on the declaring end of a number of messy predicaments, but never as low and deplorable as attempting to attack someone's retirement account out of sheer spite!"

Kathy's eyes widen as her lawyer sinks lower in his seat. "Your Honor, I…"

"I hereby declare the marriage between Elliot Stabler and Kathy Stabler officially terminated, with full custodial guardianship of the children granted solely to the father," Laramie slams his gavel down twice and points it at Elliot. "All possessions and assets obtained during the course of the marriage must be liquidated and split between you by the end of the month, you will both receive copies of this decree within thirty days." He waves Elliot and Kathy up to the bench to sign their agreement and then leans back in his chair.

Olivia watches them, part of her feeling relief and pride, another part feeling intense guilt and remorse. She can't blame Kathy for anything she's done; she would go through hell to the ends of the earth to keep Elliot now that she had him, and it only stands to reason Kathy would stop at nothing, either. She stands when Elliot beckons her to him and she smiles when he kisses her.

"It's over," he whispers, and he kisses her again. He knows Kathy is watching but he doesn't hold back, he brings his hands up to Olivia's face, cupping it as he kisses her once more. He nudges her a bit and then drops one hand to take hers.

"No, it's not," she whispers back to him, and she pulls her hand down the length of his green tie as she says, "It'll never be over. She's the mother of your children, and she will always be trying to find a way back to you...to bring you back to her."

Elliot squeezes her hands and says, "She can try all she wants, it'll never happen. You know that. O know you know that." He kisses her again, slower and deeper. He can feel Kathy staring after them as they walk out of the courtroom, and it puts a bit of swagger in his step. He thanks the judge and then his lawyer, grabs his coat and Olivia's, and bundles them both up to head out into the cold evening. His shoes land with clear clicks along the tile, his right hand moves down to Olivia's ass and rests against it as they walk. He leads her out into the long hallway, the paintings and wall sconces line the walls and garner their attention as they move.

When they're here for work, they never have the time to look around, so now that they seem to have all the time in the world, they're taking in the museum-like courthouse. For the first time, they notice the moldings on the corners of the walls are hand-carved faces of cherubic angels. Each wing of the place is paneled with a different shade of wood, the benches are marble and wrought iron, and the ceiling is painted with what seems to be an almost heavenly mural, similar to Michaelangelo's work in the Sistine Chapel with a darker tone.

They make it through the front doors, and right there, in the middle of the bustling city, at the top of one of the highest most in-view stone staircases in the city, Elliot turns fast, lifts Olivia into his arms, and spins her around as he laughs and kisses her almost victoriously.

She can't help but laugh as well, and when he sets her down again, her arms are around his neck and she's looking into his eyes. She sees her whole world staring back at her, her life in his eyes. "Ya know," she says, dragging her fingertips down the nape of his neck as she gives him a wantonly tantalizing look, "You're officially single now. You could go out there and…"

"I'm not single," he shakes his head, but the smile never fades and he pulls her closer, wraps her tighter in his arms. "I'm deliriously and fantastically happily married, to the most incredible woman on the planet, and I am never going anywhere. Baby, I am right where I belong." He kisses her again, moans against her soft lips, and he doesn't move or mind when the whistles and cat-calls from passersby hit his ears. Instead, he chuckles and thinks to himself _They're just jealous_ because he knows anyone looking at them now doesn't have a love like this at all.

She pushes him away, though she honestly doesn't want to. "We can't do that here," she says in a low voice, and suddenly her eyes are shifting around to look for anyone she recognizes. "We work…"

He sighs, holds up one hand, and says, "Yeah, I know. Work." He blinks once and grabs her hand again, and he pulls her down the steps as he hums to himself. They're on the last step, ready to head left to Olivia's apartment, but his phone rings and he shuts his eyes. "I swear to Christ, if it's Kathy…" he mutters, shoving his left hand into his black pants pocket to find the device. He answers it without checking the screen, a bad habit he's not even sure he has, and he snaps, "You heard the judge, it's done, and I…" he stops, he lets go of Olivia's hand and rubs his forehead, and he closes his eyes as he speaks again. "Sorry, Cap. Yeah, yeah, my favor. Thanks to you, I mean if you didn't lend me the…" he pauses to listen to Cragen reprimand him, and he laughs. "Okay, not a loan. Right." He shoots a look at Olivia then. "Right here, why? All night, she was...um, a character witness, what's this about?"

Olivia sees the way his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck pops out and pulses; it only does that during sex or moments of extreme rage. She squeezes his hand and lets out a heavy gasp when he pulls her into him with great force, wrapping her tightly to him with his free arm. "What's going on?" she asks, but she doesn't get an answer.

"No, uh, my brother took them over to the house, we were just…" he swallows the lump in his throat. "We were just heading over there to pick up a few things, but you…" he kisses the top of Olivia's head silently and brushes her hair back. He looks down, into her eyes, tears in his, "What kind of damage are we talking about?" He listens and though he lets out a sigh of relief, he holds her even tighter. "Okay, uh, no...I will...I'll take her to the house, just...keep us in the loop, here, okay? Thank you, Cap." He inhales slowly and exhales again. "For everything."

She watches him move as he hangs up. There's a thick silence between them as a breeze kicks up and makes his long trench coat flutter around him, and she immediately thinks he looks like Batman. After all, he is her hero. She feels the chill hit her skin beneath her jacket and she shifts in his arms. As though he knows, and he probably does, he runs his hands up and down her arms slowly. "What did he say?" she finally whispers.

He shakes his head, closes his eyes again, and kisses her, again unconcerned with who may or may not be watching them. "Cragen," he sighs, pulling away, "Told me that a, uh, bomb was found in your apartment." He raises a halting hand before she gets too overexcited and says, "It didn't go off, baby, they just...found it, disarmed it, no one got hurt, nothing was damaged." He runs the pads of his thumbs under her eyes and smiles as lovingly as he can. "He sent Tucker over there to check on the place because...one of those Vidocq guys, um…"

"Just tell me," she prodded, his hesitation making her anxious. The breeze picks up again, the dead leaves swirl at their feet, she takes a deep breath and realizes it smells like it's going to snow. "What is it?"

"One of the guys in lockup told Lake that he planted two bombs, hoping to kill a serial rapist he'd been after for months. Said he got the addresses directly from a federal source." Elliot rolls the tension out of his neck and grips Olivia's arms tighter, the first few flurries beginning to fall around them, and he says, "Lake went right to TARU to see if the tip was good, one address did belong to a guy on the list of suspects in a string of rapes all around the state," he bites his lip and lets out a small whimper. "The other one was yours. The bastard wanted…"

"You think…" she starts, and she pauses, shaking her head. "No, he doesn't want to hurt me, that's…"

"He knows we've been staying there," he interrupts her. "Me and the kids. If he's been watching us, then he knows, right now, Dillon would be there with the kids. He wasn't trying to hurt you, baby, he was trying to…"

"Hurt the kids!" she gasps, one hand covers her mouth and the other digs into his side. "Oh, my God."

Elliot kisses her again, and he grins smugly. "He fucked up, baby. He didn't expect us to nail the son of a bitch, and he didn't plan on anyone giving up his name. Now that we did...and they have…" his eyes darken, he lets out a slightly evil laugh, and he says, "We can bring his ass in on a conspiracy charge, and this time, we'll make it stick." He kisses her one last time, and then he pulls her to the right, in the direction of their new house, where he hopes to calm his nerves, spend some time with his kids, and celebrate his slight victory the only way he knows how.

With Olivia.

**A/N: Olivia and Elliot get some alone time in the new house as Cragen has a chat with Agent Porter. Fireworks all around. **


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Olivia takes a moment to look around the living room of the new house. The plush cream colored carpet, mahogany wood chair rails with mint green painted walls, the full picture window taking up the entire space behind the couch, and the furniture placed perfectly to emulate the house that changed her life.

The house in Syracuse.

The house that propelled suppressed feelings to the surface, the house that forced a confrontation with emotions she was prepared to never face.

She folds her arms over herself, letting out a heavy breath and with it, the tension from Elliot's hearing and Cragen's phone call and the knowledge that everything she owns is trapped behind crime scene tape. The house seems to calm her, and as her gaze roams around the room again, she smiles. It's safe. It's sanctuary. It's home.

It's been hours since they got here, she's checked on the kids three times and she's still shaking. She sighs and leans back, somehow knowing he's right behind her. "Kids asleep?" she asks, because she's still fucking worried about them.

He nods, kisses the back of her head, and he presses into her, moaning right into her ear. "They were exhausted after moving everything over here, they conked out as soon as their heads hit their pillows." He thrusts his hips once, bucking against her ass. He moans again, sliding his hands down to her hips. When she doesn't move, he stiffens. "You, uh...you okay?" He kisses her neck and then her cheek, he sways with her to a song no one else can hear. "If you're upset about your apartment, Tucker said we'll be able to go in and get your stuff…"

"It's just stuff," she says as she turns around. She takes one look at him and she's instantly flooded by how much she fucking needs him. "As long as you and the kids are okay...I'm okay. I don't really care about the apartment."

"So what's the matter?" he asks, still moving with her to the music in his head.

She wraps her arms around him and she takes a breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne and his musk and moaning at the way it makes her entire body tingle. "I just...can't stop thinking about what would have happened if…" she paused and scrapes her teeth along her lip. "If the kids were there."

He shakes his head and kisses her lips. "Don't do that," he whispers. "They weren't there. They're here, upstairs, sound asleep." His eyes twitch and then narrow, and as he breathes his nostrils flare. "If I ever get my hands on Porter, I will break every fucking bone in his body and then…"

She kisses him to silence his threats. Not threats, no. Fuck, she knows that he's serious. She nods to tell him she knows, she agrees, and she drops her head to his chest and takes a deep but shaky breath. When her eyes land on the hardwood floor, her heart stops and she freezes, her mind flying back to Syracuse.

She remembers the way he'd pulled her down to an identical floor, the way he'd whispered "_He's watching us" _just before sliding his hands between her skin and her shirt, teasing, testing. The way he'd rolled them over and looked into her eyes and promised that he'd never let anyone hurt her. The way he'd kissed her and it had felt so real, so perfect, so right. The way he'd promised it wasn't just because they were being watched. The thought lights a fire in the back of her mind.

"Baby," he spoke, pulling her face up with one of his hands, snapping her out of her memory. "What are you…"

"How did he know?" Her voice is soft but stern, her hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. "El, how did Dean know that the kids were at my apartment? That you were staying with me?"

He squints and pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "He's been watching…" he blinks, and it's as if a switch has been flicked. "How?" He narrows his eyes and he thinks, and he gasps. "The same way…"

"The whole time," she interrupts. "Upstate, here... I don't think we were only being watched by that psychopath. The whole fucking time, it was Dean." She tries to push away from him, her anger getting the best of her, but his hold on her is firm and tight, and she swats at him fruitlessly as she grunts a harsh, "Let go!"

"Liv, baby, calm down," he says as he struggles to keep her pressed to him. "Honey, we...look at me, look at me," he cups her face and bends a bit, staring directly into her eyes. "We'll get him, baby, I promise you we will. I swear, but...I had the guys check this place from stem to stern, there's no hidden cameras or bugs, and you know our windows are tinted. No one can see in, baby, we're completely safe here."

"I know," she sighs, falling into him again. "I know. I'm just…" she shrugs away whatever word is hanging on her tongue. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," he says, and he presses his lips to hers again. "We're okay, the kids are fine, that asshole didn't do anything. We both just have to...breathe." He kisses her and tugs lightly on her hair. He knows she knows what it means, and how she reacts to it always surprises him. He tells her pull at his shirt and he chuckles against her lips. "Forget about him," he whispers, and his hands slide lower on her body, down her back, until he's cupping her ass. "Focus on us. This. Here. Now." He squeezes her and kisses her again.

He never remembers feeling with anyone else the way he feels with Olivia. He has never loved so deeply, never wanted so desperately. With her, he wants to fuck her, make love to her, dominate her, submit to her, promise her the moon and deliver it, protect her, defend her, give her the world and held her conquer it all at once. It's the kind of love he'd read about once in a high school English class that he scoffed at, thought was only fantasy, but here it is, in the flesh, in his hands. "I love you," he tells her, and he pulls her white shirt out of her pants, starts to pick apart the buttons as he attacks her with another kiss.

She knows what he's doing, what he wants, and it's the same thing her body is now begging for. She whimpers once as her hands tug on his belt, snapping open the buckle and pulling roughly. "I love you," she finally returns, and she manages to shove his pants down over his hips. She hears him laugh, a low and gravelly sound, and she slides her hands up to his neck. She grabs his tie and with a single flick of her wrist, she has the green silk on the floor beneath her.

He works her shirt and blazer off with little difficulty, his tongue wrestling with hers as he moves, forcing her backward, and when he has her up against the wall, he pulls away. Breathless and panting, he searches her eyes. "Do you?" He asks the question with such sincerity, as if he truly isn't sure.

She struggles to breathe, feeling her nipples graze his bare chest. She's unsure of when exactly he'd taken her bra off, but she doesn't really care. "El," she says softly, part of her heart breaking with his doubt, and she realizes how quickly tables turn and that this is what he feels like when she asks the same questions. "God, yes," she breathes, her hands cupping his face and her thumbs rubbing the thin skin under his eyes.

He kisses her hard, the force shoving her back against the wall again, and he shoves her pants down with one hand, the other clutches both of her wrists above her head. "Be quiet," he warns, unsure of how sound carries in the new house and unwilling to have this be the way his kids find out about birds and bees and babies. He kisses her again, his right hand finding a home between her thighs, fingers teasing her wet heat. He moans her name as he inches two of them into her, twists and crooks and thrusts, and his heart hammers against his chest because it's bringing back so many fucking memories.

"Bedroom," she mumbles against his kiss, her hips rocking with the thrusting of his hand. "El, please," she whimpers.

"Doing this," he exhales as he moves his fingers faster, "Without anyone fucking watching us." He rotated his wrist and swipes his thumb over her clit rapidly. He leans closer to her, his hot breath lands on her neck, hits her ear and makes her shiver. "I love watching you like this," he tells her, and he bites at her pulse once. Her moan makes his dick throb, and he moves his fingers deeper and faster. "The look in your eyes, right before you cum…" he grits out with a grunting breath. "Fuck, baby. Cum for me." He struggles to keep his eyes open and on her face.

She feels it happening and her eyes roll back as her muscles start to give out. "Oh, my God, Elliot," she trembles, and she stares into his blue eyes as she lets go.

"Fuck," he spits, feeling her clamp around his fingers. "So fucking incredible," he says to her before he kisses her hard, his hand still moving torturously. His kiss moves from her lips to her neck, her chest, and he travels downward, kissing a trail from her stomach to her thighs as he sinks to his knees. He grins smugly as he peers up at her and reminds her, "Quiet," before leaning forward and licking up her slick slit.

Her hands drop to his head as her neck bends back and her jaw drops. "Oh, God," she moans softly, trying to keep her promise to stay quiet. Her fingers rake through his hair as her body bucks into his working mouth. She presses her lips together and her head falls to the side. She opens her eyes and gasps; the paint and panels on the walls, the layout of the furniture, it's all so fucking perfect and for a moment she's in Syracuse and there's nothing but her and him and this miraculous moment. "Elliot," she warns, her body starting to tremble again.

He knows, and he wants it more than anything. He hooks his arms under her in case her legs give out and he wraps his lips around her swollen, aggravated clit. He suckles for a moment and closes his eyes, losing himself in her taste, all thoughts of his broken past and their current situation blurring as she cums on his tongue. He moans in pleasure, lapping at her, taking everything she's giving him.

She whimpers as her legs cave and she moans when he catches her and kisses her. She knows he's lifting her into his arms and carrying him into their new bedroom, though they have yet to buy a bed.

Still kissing her, he lays her on the pile of blankets on the floor, smooths his body over hers, and enters her with one swift thrust.

They let out simultaneous cries of satisfied relief, and they work to prove how much stamina they have, how much desire they possess for each other.

But someone on the other side of the city is working just as hard, trying to use them strategically, treating them like pawns in the chess game from Hell. Playing with them as if they were his own unique set of toy soldiers.

Little does he know, they expect him to try, they've already marked a defense, and his next move will be his last.

**A/N: whuuuuut!? **


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Unavailable," Dean Porter repeats, standing in the office in a stiffly starched black suit. His arms are folded, his head is tilted downward, and he's staring at the man before him with skeptical and almost aggravated eyes. "What do you mean, they're unavailable?"

Captain Cragen plops his hands down onto his incredibly cluttered desk and sighs impatiently. "I mean," he takes a deep breath and just to be a bit of a prick he looks down, moves a stapler, restacks some papers, and then looks back up at Porter and gives a simper. He says, very slowly, "They are not available."

"You do realize this is a federal request," Porter says, and he takes a step closer to the desk, an arrogance in his tone and demeanor.

Cragen tilts his head. "And you do realize this is one of the only two Special Victims Unit on the island, and you're asking to take my best team out of commission for the second time in less than a year," he spits out, his face growing redder with every word. "You can take any of the other guys, or ask the Three-Nine, or take 'em outta Queens, because you can not have Benson and Stabler, not again." He smirks and says, "It's a matter of jurisdiction, ya know. You don't outrank them, and you can't give them orders."

Porter scoffs. "Oh, old man, you are absolutely…"

"Davis," Cragen interrupts, calling to the uniformed officer who'd escorted Porter into the squad room, "Show Agent Porter out. Make sure the door doesn't hit him on the way."

"Yes, Sir," Davis says with a nod, and his crisp blue uniform crinkles as he takes Porter by the arm.

Porter spouts some unintelligible nonsense as he's ushered out of Cragen's office and through the bullpen, and once he's gone, Cragen picks up the phone. He dials and waits, flipping through the papers on his desk. "Yeah, he's on his way out. You sure you wanna do this?" He sighs. "I know it's the only way, but are you...you keep them out of it, understand?" He grunts his thanks and hangs up, and then turns his attention to the office window. "God, I hope this works."

Meanwhile, across town, Olivia and Elliot are oblivious to the conflict between Cragen and Porter as they wait on the sidelines of a crime scene. Elliot's standing behind Olivia, sipping his German chocolate latte, eyeing Doctor Barton cautiously. "She hasn't come on to me, yet," he whispers to his partner.

Olivia chuckles as she swallows her mouthful of honey-nut espresso. "She hasn't even seen you, because you've been hiding since we got here." She turns over her shoulder and smirks at him, shakes her head, and says, "How's your back?"

He groans and twists his hips a bit, causing slight cracks and pops in his back, and he says, "God, we are getting a bed as soon as fucking possible." He hears her laugh again, and he scoffs. "Yeah, it's funny to you because you used me as a mattress."

She darkens her eyes and tilts her head just a bit. "You weren't complaining."

He grins, then, and lowers his brows. "You know how much I love having you on top of me," he winks once, sips his coffee, and says, "I love...how you feel, how I can feel your heart beat, the look on your face when you're dreaming...and I know you're dreaming about me. Us."

"Okay." She holds up a hand and takes a deep breath. "We can't...we're at work, and what you're saying right now…"

"Just being honest," he quips, and he notices that Barton is trying to get their attention. He nudges her, and his phone rings as they move toward the medical examiner. He answers it quickly, hoping it's going to give him a reason to ignore the too-forward redhead. "Stabler," he spouts into the phone.

He listens as Olivia talks to Barton. When the conversations overlap, he plugs his left ear, and he feels the metal of his ring against his skin. It makes him smile and something the person calling him says plants an idea in his head. "Okay," he says, nodding. "Thanks." He hangs up and slaps Olivia in the shoulder. "What's up?" He points to the limp and broken body on the ground.

"Dump," Olivia tells him. "She's been completely exsanguinated." She sips the last of her latte and shakes her head. "Um, she…"

"Was raped," Barton says, finally acknowledging Elliot. "Bruising suggests both pre and post mortem assault. There's no way to tell exactly what happened…"

"Until you get her into your lab," Elliot says flatly. "We know." He shoves his phone in his pocket, sips his latte, and asks, "What can you tell us that doesn't require us waiting for hours or any of your fancy equipment?"

Barton squints at him, feeling a bit shunned and insulted, and she holds her clipboard to her chest. "She's got several broken bones, a hand-print bruise across her face...like someone was holding her mouth and nose shut. No ID, but she looks to be between twenty and thirty, and it wasn't a robbery. She's wearing a diamond ring and necklace that is worth more than what I make a year."

"So she comes from money," Elliot surmises.

Olivia hums. "Or someone else who does have her some pretty nice gifts." She grimaces. "Before he killed her."

"I'm gonna go find out what the crime scene guys got for us," Elliot says, and he moves fast before Barton can make a crack about _her gifts _or something, and he pulls on his tie as he walks.

Barton watches after him and stares in his direction. "So he's still married?"

"Um, yeah," Olivia says. "Can we focus here?" She shakes her head and rolls her shoulders, and then snaps her fingers. "Barton! Eyes off his ass!"

Barton smirks and licks her lips. "Harder than you think," she says, and she turns around. "Your his partner. You're pretty close to him. Do you know if he, uh, if he's the kind of guy…"

"He's already told you, he is...for some reason...incredibly devoted to his...um, wife," Olivia says, and the words feel weird on her tongue, it feels odd that she's talking about herself. "He's not gonna cheat on her. Besides, his wife would absolutely kick your ass." She pouts and her brows angle. "And his."

Barton relents, sighs, and says, "Shame," and then she hands Olivia the top sheet off of her chart. "Here's my prelim, I'll call you as soon as possible with whatever I find." She nods and walks towards her van, pointing and directing others to wrap and move the body.

Elliot strides up next to Olivia, his coffee cup now in a trash bin behind them. "Photos, her personal effects, and…"

"She asked me if you ever thought about cheating on your wife," she cuts him off, her left eye popping slightly.

"Uh, which wife?" He chuckles and says, "I thought about cheating on Kathy so often, I almost confessed to actually doing it. You? Never." He tilts his head. "I don't think about anyone except you, and trust me...I think about you...all the damn time." He gives her a wink and says, "You have nothing to worry about."

"El," she sighs and shakes her head. "As much as it feels like it, as much as we both say it and believe it…" she bites her lip and shakes her head. "We're not really married. Not...legally. You never even…" she stops, and she knows that he's glaring at her in that way that means he can't believe what is coming out of her mouth. "You were saying something about…"

"Marry me, then," he spits out, and he fully fucking knows how stupid it sounds, that it came out like a command at a crime scene at seven in the morning.

She whips her head to him. "What?" She blinks once, the coffee in her hand is now on the pavement, spreading a honey nut layer over the gravel.

He looks around, then he drops his box of sealed evidence bags and takes her hand. He runs his thumb over her rings before slipping them off of her finger. He pockets the wedding band and holds the diamond engagement ring out to her. "Let's fucking make it official, if that's what it takes to get you to fucking believe that this is real!" He pushes his hand in her direction. "Marry me," he repeats, his voice softer, his eyes less severe.

"Are you…" she blinks. "You're serious."

He slips the ring back onto her finger and nods, his tongue pressed between a tight-lipped shit-eating grin. "Dead serious," he tilts his head and raises and lowers his eyebrows fast. He asks this time, slowly, deliberately looking into her eyes. "Will...you...marry…

me?"

She inhales and looks down at her hand in his, the ring sparkling even though there's no sunlight peeking through they grey clouds overhead. "El," she exhales, "Yes." And she's surprised by her answer, as though she didn't realize what she was saying. She runs her tongue over her teeth and gums and swallows hard as she nods. "Yes." It was a conscious decision this time.

He smiles at her, and he squeezes her hand. "Thank God," he says, and he picks up the box and pulls her toward their Ford. "Oh, uh...that phone call before, um…" he unlocks the car and opens the door for her. "Porter tried to pull us into some bunko case. Cragen knew it was some kind of trap, kicked him out of the office. He has a couple of guys following him and, uh, he told me…"

She notices the break in his voice, the sudden stop. "What? What did he do?"

He scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. "He went to your apartment first. Then my old house. He saw the for sale sign and kind of flipped out, then drove away again. He's gone back and forth from one to the other, twice already. He's, uh, waiting for one of us to go home." He takes a breath. "We were right."

"Shit," Olivia scoffs, folding her arms. "What's the next play?"

Elliot looks over his shoulder, then to both sides, then kissed her quickly. "We wait until calls, catch him in the lie." He drums his fingers along the door and then lightly shoves her down into her seat. He closes the door and runs around to the driver's side. Once he's settled in the car and turns the key, he looks at her. "But, uh, first we stop at the courthouse. Find a judge who owes us a favor." He leans over and kisses her, and when he pulls back he sees the confused look on her face. "You...you just said you'd marry me."

Shock shot into her eyes and her mouth feel open. "You...shit, you meant now?" She slaps one hand over her suddenly racing heart.

He chuckles and pulls away from the curb. "Right, the fuck, now." He turns the wheel sharply and steps on the gas. "No more excuses, no more reasons to think this is all just gonna slip away." He changes lanes and says, "And when the time is right, when we're sure Cragen isn't gonna have an aneurism and Porter's in a cage or a box...we plan the party." His face twists into a smile. "The right way. The dress you want, the cake we want, the right place, the right time, for the right reasons…

with the right person." He reaches out and brushes a hand through her hair. "I love you. I love you so much."

She smiles. She knows she wants the same things and she knows there's no doubts anymore. "I love you, too." She runs her fingers over his hand and says, "You know this is it for you, don't you? I'm not Kathy, I won't…"

"Baby, I could say the same thing to you," he laughs. "No more dates with lawyers or...fucking...anyone else." His jaw tightens and he grips the wheel harder. "Shit, even hypothetical jealousy...this is how in love with you I am."

She laughs and says, "I'll tell you all about the many ways I've plotted…" she was interrupted by her ringing phone. She shoots Elliot a look and slowly reaches into her pocket for her phone. She answers it, staring at Elliot as she says, "Benson."

He keeps his eyes on the road, eager to get to where he's going before she can change her mind because he's fucking not changing his, but he's listening to her conversation.

"Where?" she asks the person on the line. "Okay, maybe half an hour? And you cleared this with Cragen?" She slaps her hand on the dashboard, trying to get Elliot's attention, and she says, "See you then." She hangs up and says, "We got him."

Elliot pulls over, parking on a slant in front of the courthouse steps, and he reaches over Olivia. He opens the glove compartment and pulls his police window marker out of it. He slaps it onto the dashboard and puts his hand on the door handle. He opens it, darts his eyes to the steps of the courthouse, and he smirks. "He can wait."

**A/N: Are they really getting married? And what is Porter playing at?**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Im sorry," she says, and she's barreling through the halls of the federal building following Elliot like a mad woman. "Hey! Hey!" She reaches for him and her fingers pinch the thick material of his wool coat. "Stop for a minute!"

He turns, his face cemented in pure rage, and he lets his nostrils flare once as he says, "What?" His chest rises and falls, his fists are clenched tightly, and he can feel the blood pumping through every vein because his muscles are pure hit iron looking for a place to strike.

She flinches slightly as her hand falls away from him, and she whispers, "I wanted to…" but she stops, she's not sure why he's so angry because it's not like they had to cancel any official plans, and they could probably go down to the courthouse tomorrow and do the same damn thing. "Calm down."

He closes his eyes and he drags one hand down his face. He exhales, brushing lint and dust off of his coat sleeves, and he says, "Just another fucking reason to hate this son of a bitch." He rolls his tongue around in his mouth, folds his arms, and he says, "He couldn't have waited five more minutes? You told him we'd be a while, and right when we are about to actually see the clerk, he calls back and says he can't fucking wait anymore! Does he have the car bugged, too? Is he tapping our phones?"

She moves closer to him, runs her hands up and down his arms to calm him down, and she says, "I'm upset, too, okay? You…" she pauses. Her head fills with the million reasons maybe it's a good thing they were kept from rushing into a legally binding contract, the small dregs of resistive doubt and jaded cynicism are multiplying. She clears her throat and says, "We have to stay calm, here, because we know what he's trying to get us to do, and if we go in there already steaming…"

"Yeah," he snaps, and his focus shifts away from her. It hurts to look at her; he'd come so close to having her, permanently, where he wants her, and once again they're split up by a man who seems to just know exactly when to drag them into the fray. "Let's get this over with."

She watches as he turns and walks, and the small pang of pain ripping at her heart fades quickly. She knows he's a live grenade on a good day, so when someone pulls his pin, he explodes a lot quicker leaving more collateral damage in his wake. She follows him with a shaking head, her hands shoved in her pockets, and she curses under her breath when she feels her rings snag on the fabric, the engagement ring and wedding band he'd practically demanded she put back on her finger.

He nods and grunts as he passes by agents and clerical officers, his gait never shortening, and when he blows into Porter's office without knocking, he stares down at the man and pulls on the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. "This had better be fucking important."

Olivia slips into the room, stands beside Elliot, and under the guise of putting her hands on her hips, she steadies her palm over the grip of her gun. "What's this about? Cragen didn't say anything about…"

"I went over his head," Porter states, and he turns and tilts his head. "Dug up a little dirt on you, Benson. No husband to speak of, so why lie to me?" He tosses a file at her.

She catches it and rolls her eyes with her tongue caught between her lips. "It's not on the books, for...personal reasons." She glares at him as she holds up her left hand, wiggles her fingers, and says, "I didn't change my name or anything, so there's no way you…" she hurls the file back to him. "Why are you rifling through my files anyway?"

Porter smiles and shrugs with a cat-ate-the-canary look in his eyes. "Just thought maybe I'd be able to convince you to take a chance and let me take you to dinner." He sobers then, nods once. "But you're...really married?"

Her heart stops and she says, "Yes," but she instantly regrets it. She should be, but she isn't. "Did you pull us away from something that was pretty fucking important just to…"

"I need the two of you," Porter cuts her off, standing. He fastens the last two buttons on his suit jacket and walks around to the front of his desk. "You won't be in harm's way, you won't even be involved in the take down. I just need you to be, uh, the entertainment." He chuckles. "So to speak."

"Bait," Elliot spits. "No fucking way."

"Not bait," Porter leans back against his desk, and he starts mentally sizing up Elliot. He chuckles, knowing his suit and shoes are more expensive, but he frowns a bit when he notices Elliot is taller, more muscular. He sneers a bit when he sees that Elliot's hands and feet are bigger, which makes him feel more inadequate and less placating. "A distraction. You give him something to watch, keep him focused on you, so he won't see us coming."

Elliot flattens his smile and holds out a hand, waving it. "No, no," he turns to look at Olivia. "I'm not comfortable with this. Cragen's not on board, we shouldn't…" And just as planned, his cell phone rings. He knows who it is without looking. He answers with an almost disgusted sounding, "Stabler."

Olivia waits. Her hand is still poised near her gun, she is only half listening to Elliot's conversation as she looks around the office. The almost regal looking wood and marble furniture makes her queasy. It's the only difference between a federal gig and her own, the budget, and she a brief moment of repressed regret as she recalls a time when she refused an offer that would have landed her in a similar space. She moves her head and suddenly she's locking eyes with Porter. She knows the look in his eyes; it's the very same as the one in Elliot's after three shots and a stiff drink, when he stares at her too drunk to hide his lust. She tries to hide the distortion of her smile and that's when she hears Elliot say goodbye and hang up.

Elliot shoves his phone back into his pocket, and he gnaws at his cheek for a moment. His eyes dart toward Porter's window. He knows that just outside, Tucker is sitting in a car, ready and willing to tail them if they want to turn the tables or bust into the office if they'd rather end it now. He's honestly torn. Does he take her back into a situation where he knows they're being watched, used, or does he mow down the bastard now and settle into his life with her?

"Uh, hello? You gonna do this or not?" Porter barks, his impatience clear.

"Listen, you text me," Elliot says, making his decision. "The address, the time you need us there, the cover story." He checks his watch and then hits Olivia's arm. "We have to go." He storms out of the office leaving Porter more irritated than before, but he knows Olivia is following him.

"What the hell was that?" She snaps into old habits so easily. Her eyes are dark and close, her lips are pinned in a wavy line, her entire body is a knotted muscle. It's the way she reacts whenever he makes a move without telling her, when he gets too rough with suspect or too violent with a perp, when his arrogant rage comes out in an interview or interrogation.

"What was what?" He doesn't even turn to look at her, he simply keeps on trucking through the hallway toward the front doors. He knows she's pissed off; he can tell by her voice, by the heaviness of her footsteps behind him, and by the heat radiating off of her and hitting his back. It makes it difficult to keep focused on what he has to do and where he's going.

She scoffs and picks up her speed, catching up to him and stepping beside him. She's glaring at him, but since he's staring straight ahead the only part of him feeling her wrath is his ear. "You just decided that we're doing this? We can't trust him, Elliot! How do you know he's not luring us to some safe house to…"

He stops suddenly and turns, grips the sides of her arms, and he looks into her furious eyes. His dick twitches; watching her this way, fighting with him, her anger in interrogations or discordance off the clock has always been one of his biggest turn ons. Their arguments have always led to him needing to rub one out, and now when they can fuck each other calm, he's in the middle of a crowded lobby. "Exactly," he hisses, and one hand leaves her body to pull at the fabric that's been grazing against his erection. "Why do you think I told him to text me, I told him I needed where and when, in writing."

She squints, trying to figure out what he's getting at, and she licks her lips to hide the fact that she can't.

He chuckles as his hands slide down her body: beneath her leather coat and black suit, he knows she's wearing the hottest red lace bra in the world. He knows she isn't wearing the matching underwear, that she isn't wearing any. He clears his throat and blinks at her. "He's telling us where to be and when to be there, but we aren't the ones that are showing up." He bites his lip. "At least, not alone."

Before she can say anything to him, she's pulled across the lobby, through the doors, and over to a waiting black car. "El?"

He opens the back door, nods once, and says, "Get in."

She slides in, sees Ed Tucker behind the wheel, and she finally asks, "What the hell is going on?" She feels herself being pushed further and knows Elliot is slipping into the car beside her.

He wraps himself around her and kisses the back of her head. "Payback," he says. "Cragen knew that Porter would try to do this, because he…"

"Did it before," she says, remembering that Porter refused to take Cragen's denial and went right to the Chief of Detectives, forcing the captain's hand and dragging them under without his expressed consent. "There's no op, is there?" She turns to Tucker and leans over to look at him. "We really were fucking right?"

"I called every contact I have," Tucker looks over his shoulder into the backseat. He smiles as he watches Elliot smooth his hands around Olivia's face and pull her to him for a kiss, and he scratches at his chin while he waits for them to break apart. He raises a brow as he says, "No one knows anything about a sting, not one that requires the two of you to…" he rolls his eyes, his words haven't had the desired effect, so he spits out, "Jesus, can you two please…"

"Sorry," Elliot wipes a hand down his face but his head rests on Olivia's, still, his way of apologizing for his moments of Hulking. "So this is all him? This is just Porter…"

"Trying to get the two of you away from the unit," Tucker says, and he looks at Olivia. "The bomb in your apartment wouldn't have done much damage, but it would've cause minor injuries and a lot of fear. I don't think he's trying to really hurt you, Benson."

Elliot sighs. "We know what he wants," he says. He shakes his head and says, "He wants her. He wants me to think someone is after her, he wants me to get mad at her for putting my kids in danger. He wants me to leave her, so he can move in and…"

"Relax," she interrupts, placing her hand on his knee. "He doesn't know us, even if something happened, you wouldn't have…" she stops mid-sentence. She looks away from him because she doesn't know what he would've done, if it would've been the impetus that sent him back to Kathy.

"Never," he reaches over and cups her chin, gets her to look at him. "It's what he wants but he's never gonna get it." He kisses her cheek softly and says, "So we let them handle it. We know it's a trap, so we get the address, send a couple guys in to scout the place, and when he gets there, expecting to meet us, he'll come face to face with his boss."

Olivia tilts her head. "Okay," she blinks quickly and turns to fully face him. "Usually, something like this happens, you want to be the one to…"

"Hey, I would love to head him off and look into the assholes eyes as I beat the piss out of him," he hums and he smirks. "But we have too much going on, too much to do...and I really…" he exhales and he sits back. "I really don't want to give Cragen another reason to think we're taking risks just to protect each other. We beat him at his own game, we set the trap, it's his turn to fall into it."

She nods at him. "Okay," she settles into the seat as Tucker starts the car, and she stares out the window as they move. She takes a breath and she smiles slightly, realizing the change in him, realizing the reason. "This could've played out differently." She angles her head toward him. "You don't want him watching us, or even believing he'll get the chance."

"The last time," Elliot says breathlessly, scooting closer to her, "We didn't know Porter was watching, and at least there was…the assumption it wasn't real. Things we stopped ourselves from doing, so he didn't see..." he looks at her. "This time, he'd be watching everything...all of it, because there's nothing stopping us now. He'd watch...something that is too immaculate and too fucking pure for anyone else to be a part of, ever." He leans in, his lips graze her neck, and he whispers, "No one else is ever gonna see the faces you make when you cum, or how your body moves when I'm making you."

She shivers, the goosebumps rise, and she wraps her hands around his. "Ditto," she says, and then something hits her. A thought that scares her but makes so much sense. "What if he already has?" She snaps her head toward Tucker. "He's probably furious because I told him I was married, he knows Elliot...was married when…"

"What are you getting at?" Tucker queries as he turns the car down the street to get to the station.

Olivia laughs but it's anything but happy. "He thinks we're having an affair. He's mad because I turned him down every single time he asked, but…" she rolls her eyes at herself. "No, no, wait...this...he's not doing all of this because he wants me."

Tucker parks the car, and as he unbuckles his seat belt he turns to them. "He wants you, but...that's only part of it." He sighs and says, "I told you I called every contact I have. One of them is Porter's old partner. I didn't want to tell you guys this, not until we had specifics of what he wanted from you."

"Ed," Elliot moves closer. "Tell us, man."

Tucker clears his throat and says, "Syracuse...was his last case. He was fired. He was only in his office today because he was cleaning it out. He fucked up and you two closed the case yourselves. His boss didn't take it too well, and since it was the fourth case in a row Porter dropped, he was canned. This isn't just about his boner for you, Benson," he pauses and looks at Elliot. "It's about revenge."

**A/N: …? **


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

It's been three hours and Porter still hasn't sent Elliot any information; it's both a relief and an annoyance. They've buried themselves in work, but both have certainly been preoccupied by thoughts of what could have happened that morning. What they could've done. She slips the top of her pen into her mouth as she reads a written confession, only half understanding what it says because she keeps replaying the memory, the moment her phone rang, the instant the clerk was about to let them into his office to sign a piece of paper that would change everything. And nothing at all.

"Here," his voice is smooth like melted caramel as he drops a foam cup on her desk. He furrows his brows when she doesn't look up at him, and he shifts his eyes around the room before leaning over her. He places one hand on either side of her, palms on her desk, trapping her in the space between his arms. He bends, turns his head, and whispers in her ear. "If there's something you need to say to me…"

"Nope," she says, purposely not glancing at him. The moment she does is the moment she breaks. The bridge between Detective Benson and Olivia collapses, what she desperately wants and the tasks at hand collide, and she doesn't know how to handle the fallout from that.

He moves back less than an inch, turns just a few degrees more, so his voice and hot breath hit right into her ear. "What...the fuck...is the problem?" He leans in, let's his teeth nip her earlobe between them, pulls a bit, and lets it go. He feels her shiver, hears her near-silent moan, smirks. "Well?"

She shakes her head slightly, her lip caught between her lips. As she shrugs once, she says, "I don't like being dicked around."

"Excuse me?" His breath is still puffing right into her ear and he knows he's giving her chills. "You think I'm fucking…"

"Porter," she says, finally bracing herself and looking at him. "And Cragen. Both of them have been fucking using us like pawns, playing some fucked up game of Battleship with us." She slams the file in her hands down and she shoots him a questioning glare. "Doesn't it seem rather fucking odd...that Porter went to Cragen to make it look legit, yet Cragen didn't say shit to us about it? And in my first little chat with Porter he tells us he cleared it with the captain, it was Tucker who told you it was bullshit…"

"What are you getting at?" Elliot lowers his voice again, but it's only because the way she's looking at him right now is fucking turning him on and if he speaks any louder he'll moan.

She takes a breath, licks her lips, and says, "Cragen assumes Tucker told us not to do the damn thing, he wanted us to set Porter up, let IAB and the Feds take him down. He also knows Porter wants us to show up to some house in the Hamptons with our guard down…"

"You think Cragen's trying to see if we'll take another op without him, if we'd just follow Porter's orders to take him out ourselves," he whispers, and he cocks his head to the side. "They're both using us…"

"To piss each other off," Olivia nods. "Cragen's still upset that we went upstate without a permission slip, he knows something fucking happened up there, feels slighted because he's outta the loop," she scrapes her teeth over her lip. "And you heard Tucker, Porter blames us because we closed the case, got the bad guy and glory for this unit with no help from him, he lost his job and blames us."

Elliot lets out a soft, confirming grunt. "Shit," he hisses.

"Yeah," she breathes. "Now, unless you want to give Cragen another reason to fire us both," she narrows her eyes but it reads more seductive than angry, "Back the hell up."

He chuckles, feels her tremble again, and says, "I always stand here, right here, when we're looking at something on your computer. So…" he moves his left hand, his ring clicks against the space bar as he types something into a search bar, and then he laughs softly. "That's what we're doing." He kisses the back of her head softly, but moves a respectable three inches when he heard Cragen's door open.

Cragen clears his throat, looks at the two detects are staring him in the eyes, and he slowly walks toward them. "I know there's an issue with Agent Porter…"

"Yeah, relax," Elliot offers, shoving one hand into his pocket while the other lifts off of Olivia's desk and flattens our toward Cragen. "We're gonna let Tucker and…"

"It's been handled," Cragen says, and he looks down at Olivia. "He's on his way to Mount Sinai. There was...an accident." He clears his throat again. "I'm not entirely sure what's going on between you and him, but I…"

"Nothing," Olivia spits out almost offended. "There was nothing…"

"Nothing happened between the two of you in Syracuse?" Cragen watches her shake her head and folds his arms. "Huh. I thought maybe that's why he was trying so hard to get you to work with him. Get more time with you." He scratches his chin. "Well, uh, at any rate...he's gonna be fine, he's…"

"What kind of accident?" Elliot asks, but in the pit of his stomach he already knows. He remembers how the Feds work, how they take care of their own problems, and Porter has become a problem. "Cap?" he prods.

"The, uh, brakes on his car malfunctioned," Cragen states, and he tries to bring himself to sound more upset. "He couldn't slow down or stop, tried to turn down Madison and drove right into the side of a building." He holds up both hands and says, "He'll live." He points to the open file on Olivia's desk and then the monitor. "Where are you on this?"

Elliot and Olivia share a look, they both know there's more to the story than what Cragen has said, but they decide to let it go for now. They have to pick their battles with Cragen for a little while longer. "Uh," Elliot hums dumbly, pointing at the computer.

Olivia pipes up, saving them both, and says, "Confession stands." She tips the file up a bit. "He was sober, the traffic cameras on Lex got him coming out of the bar, practically dragging her. There's no way she could have possibly consented to anything." She looks up at Cragen as she leans back in her chair, forgetting that Elliot is right behind her. Her head his his stomach, he doesn't move at all, and she freezes for a moment. "Just waiting for tox to confirm."

Cragen nods. "Good," he says. "Then go home. Your apartment's been cleared. Stabler, you, too." He checks his watch. "Lab won't have anything for you until tomorrow, we got the hump in holding. So for tonight, you're done."

"Not arguing," Elliot spits. He grabs his coat and hands Olivia's to her, nods once at Cragen, and then checks his watch before he leads her out of the room. "Fuck," he hisses, and he throws his head back with a wince and repeats. "Fuck." His fists clench and he storms toward the elevator. He punches the call button so hard the plastic rim cracks.

"Christ," she shoots out, grabbing his hand before he can punch the wall. "The fucking thing hasn't been fixed that long, you wanna break it again?" She leans in, her fingers running over his knuckles.

"He knew," he whispers, his eyes closed and his head lightly shaking. "He fucking knew."

"Who knew what?" She narrows her eyes and pushes him through the opening doors.

He slides his free hand down his face and lets his head slam back into the wall of the elevator. "Porter," he moans. "He knew where we were when he called. He knew why. He knew exactly when to call back and drag us away from…" he inhales and his entire body hurts with the thought. "He purposely kept us waiting, kept us busy...then suddenly gets into a mysteriously convenient accident the same time every government office closes shop?"

"You don't think there was an accident," she surmises.

He bites his lip and he eyes the blinking red light in the corner of the elevator. "I think he knew, and he played us like a couple of fucking tambourines just so we couldn't. Why the fuck do you think he pulled your file?"

"How could he have known?" She asks the question as she drags a hand through her hair, then runs that same hand down Elliot's arm. His blue suit crinkles under her touch and she rugs on the wool coat in his hands, silently telling him to put it on. "We didn't tell anybody, and we didn't even plan on doing it until you had the idea...at a crime scene, in the middle of the damn street!"

"I fucking know that," he huffs. He hits his head hard against the wall and then pops up, digs around in his pocket, and grabs his phone. He punches a button on the wall, then turns and pulls her into him with a finger to his lips.

She raises an eyebrow but smirks wickedly, feeling his hand work into the pocket of her pants. She watches him pull her phone out, and when the doors open again, he holds both phones in one hand and pulls her through the TARU lobby with the other.

He makes a beeline for the most familiar desk and snaps at the tech detective behind it. When eye contact is made with Morales, he makes a scribbling gesture with his hand, asking for a pen and paper. When he gets it, he writes a note, slaps the two phones down, and slides them across the desk.

Morales scrunches his face up, but once he reads what Elliot wrote to him, his eyes pop. Immediately, he plugs each phone into wires connected to his computer. His fingers move like tan rocket ships, blurring and clicking, and he snaps back at Elliot, then crooks a finger at both detectives and twists his monitor.

Elliot's left hand curls and pounds down on the desk, and he pulls Olivia closer to him with his right.

A few more clicks, a loud beeping noise, and Morales exhales. "Clear," he says. "This was a pretty sophisticated wire-tap. Not only capable of listening to and recording phone calls, but you both had key-loggers installed, which probably transmitted every e-mail, text message, and written memo. Whoever did this also had remote access to the camera and microphone."

Olivia's face goes white and she leans into Elliot's hold. "So we didn't even need to be on the phone, they could've…"

"Liv," Morales looks at her, and he folds his arms. "If you turned them off and kept them in the corner of the room, whoever did this could have turned them on, listened to, watched, and recorded everything."

"Son of a bitch," Elliot fumes. He taps on Morales screen. "Any way you can back track? Figure out where the bastard is?"

"With this kind of technology and remote monitoring, El," Morales shrugs and looks at him, "Someone in Tokyo could have been watching a 1080i high-def video of you brushing your teeth. With web-based apps and net-capable phones like this, guy could've been anywhere." He leans forward and types what looks like a foreign language, and then says, but there is a back door that may tell us the ISP or serial port number of the device that tapped into yours."

There's more typing and more clicking and Elliot and Olivia look at each other knowingly, having an idea whose phone or computer going to come up in this off-the-cuff and unofficial investigation.

"Liv, El," Morales grabs their attention and makes a slight condescending noise as if he is the King of TARU, "I got a phone number and an ISP, I can get a name if you want me to…"

"Do it," Elliot barks with a tightly clenched jaw, and he leans over to watch the screen.

"Hey," Olivia pulls him up, one hand on each shoulder, and she says, "Hey, Morales, don't...don't bother." She looks into his eyes.

He blinks rapidly, stunned. "You don't want to know who…"

"We already do," she grabs his chin and turns his head, points one finger at the screen, right to the nine digit number the trace has discovered.

Elliot closes his eyes, slowly turns back to Olivia, and pulls her close. He kisses her forehead and then slaps Morales in the shoulder. "Thanks, man," he says. "I owe ya one."

"Nah, that's what friends are for," he tells them in return. "You want me to wipe the phones for you?"

"We're due for new ones, anyway," Elliot laughs, and then he looks at Olivia. "New numbers, new plan. One. Joint." He loops an arm around her and says, "And as soon as we get them, we are bringing them right back here for Magic Morales to put all kinds of roadblocks and firewalls on them." He takes a deep breath. "And yes, I'm ignoring it, I know."

"Well, I'm not," she states, and she heads for the hallway, for the elevator, to go talk to the man who tried like hell to keep her from making the one move that would make her feel less like shit, make her feel less guilty for enjoying the last five months of her life.

"Where are you going?" He yells after her, and he catches up to her at the elevator. "Honey, we can deal with it tomorrow, after we go to Telecom, stop by the court…"

"I am dealing with this right the fuck now," she interrupts, and she throws herself into him, kisses him hard, deep, unconcerned with anyone in the Tech Unit who may be watching, because fuck she's used to being watched. She pulls away but her fingers are still curled around his collar. "Like I said, I don't like being dicked around." She backs away from him and hits the elevator button. "Especially not by my boss."

**A/N: Whhhhhhaaaaaa?**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: ****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"You thought you were what?" Olivia fumes at Cragen, her hands on her hips. She can't believe what he's just said, it's taking every ounce of self-control she has to keep from yelling at him, to keep her job.

Cragen shakes his head, blinks, and says, "Protecting you." He holds out a hand, his unbuttoned collar flaps apart as he tugs on his shirt. "Porter was after you for a reason, and when I thought it was because you were seeing him...I heard things...thought you were letting yourself get wrapped up in two different affairs," he sighs and drops into his desk. "I swear, I didn't...hear anything personal, other than what you two were planning to do this morning, and I…"

"You and Porter," she snaps, pointing a finger at him and leaning forward, "You what, joined forces to keep me from getting married?" She laughs bitterly, raising her eyes toward the ceiling. "God, can everyone please just fucking stay out of my personal life?" She drops her gaze again, staring at her captain. "You are my boss, end of story! And Dean Porter isn't even...I mean, fuck, I'm better friends with Judge Donnelly than I am with Porter and I fucking hate her!" She slams both of her palms on his desk and grits her teeth. "If you think I'm making a mistake, Captain Cragen, that's fine, but it's my mistake to make! Please, unless it concerns my job…"

"This does!" Cragen booms, standing again. His face is red and his eyes are severe and it's clear that he's starting to tremble.

Olivia laughs, but it's anything but happy. She's pointed and clear in her words. "No, it doesn't," she says. She pulls on the cuffs of her leather jacket, a new attitude seeming to fill her every pore as she yanks on the black hide. "We're not breaking any laws, there's no code or policy on the books in any fucking precinct in this God-forsaken state! We called! We checked! This...this is all just you being…" she takes a deep breath and she closes her eyes, licks and rubs her lips together, and when she feels herself calm down enough, she opens her eyes and speaks. "It hasn't been affecting how we work."

"Yet," Cragen dismisses. "You stand there and tell me you see this lasting, that you won't have issues working with him if this ever goes south!"

Again, she laughs, but it's more dejected now. Tears spring to her eyes at his words and she can't stop them from rolling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Captain, I grew up without a father, I don't need you to fill the void. Not like this. You wanna step in and be the kind of dad I need? Then just...fucking...be happy for me!" She shakes her head, the weight of it all landing on her fully. "Shit, I finally have a relationship that isn't based on the sheer fucking fact that I didn't want to be alone, or because I wanted to piss off my mother! I finally know what it's like to feel loved, and safe, and like I'm a part of a family! I get to be with him, and his kids, and nothing has ever felt more fucking perfect! You don't think I know it's all gonna blow up in my face? I am fully fucking aware that he's eventually gonna wake up and regret this! Regret...me...but fuck, I would have liked to make it a little fucking harder for him to just walk away!" She rakes her hands through her hair and grunts in pure frustration. "And no, I am fully fucking sure that we'd work just fine...when this all just...goes back to normal, we'll be fine. He's the only partner…" her lip trembles. Her eyes and nose burn and she shakes her head, losing grip of her voice and stability. She turns and storms out of the office, letting the door slam so hard against the plaster wall that there's certainly a hole where the doorknob hit.

Elliot stares after her for a few seconds, trying to process every word of her emotional tirade, and once he realizes what the last half of it actually means, he runs, not even saying a single word to Cragen. He pushes people out of his way, dodges eager officers and rookies who want to shake his hand, and he grabs her before she can push the elevator button on the hallway wall.

He doesn't give a shit who's watching, who can see them, he spins her around fast and kisses her with everything he has. His hands wind in her hair, his fingers dig into the skin of her scalp as he squeezes and presses her tighter against him. He feels the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and angry, and he knows they're a mix of his and hers, and he doesn't pull away from her until his lungs burn with the need for oxygen. "Not leaving you," he pants, wheezes, and he clutches her tighter. "Never. I swear, this isn't…" he blinks. He swipes his thumbs under her eyes and he kisses her again. "How you could even think that...what we have…" he sniffles and he brushes his nose against hers. "You have to tell me you believe me."

"When you say it, I do," she whispers, and she shakes her head as she grips both of his hands in hers, peels them away from her face and she looks around, biting her lip. With another sniffle, she nods at the certainty that no one actually saw the devastating kiss in front of the elevator. She pulls him, then, toward the stairs. The new door, it's fresh paint, still gives her anxiety but she knows if she doesn't keep moving she'll collapse and cry again. "When he said...God, he thinks…"

"I know what he thinks," he interrupts, rubbing his eyes, and he stops her at the bottom of the first flight, presses her against the wall. His hard body is flush against hers, his nose brushes hers and he whispers, "He's wrong. Baby, he's wrong. I love you, and you…" he tilts his head. "You love me, don't you?" He blinks once. "Enough to marry me? Really...really marry me?"

She nods, and to prove her point, she kisses him. It's twice in less than five minutes they've made contact at work, something they swore they'd never do, but that was when they believed they were keeping a monumental secret, but now that they're aware that they aren't allowed to have secrets, they don't fucking care where they are. "I love you," she says to him. Her hands glide down his body and cup his ass tightly, she rocks into him so that her heat strokes against his cock, and they both moan at the contact and promise of more once they get home. "I don't know why he...God, he made me so fucking…"

He kisses her and stops her words. "Calm down," he says softly. "Tomorrow, okay? We'll stop and get our new phones on the way home, and tomorrow...we'll stop at the courthouse on the way in, sign our lives over to each other…"

"My life is yours already," she says, a small smile playing at her lips.

He grins. "You know you have mine," he affirms, "But I guess we just need to make it legal," he winks. "And then we will waltz into this building, happier than we've ever been, and I know you, you'll apologize even though he doesn't deserve it and…"

"I don't," Cragen's voice calls down to them. He takes a few steps toward them, stopping and sitting on a stone step. "This place...right here…" he splays a hand over his heart. "I can't tell you what went through my head when I thought you two…" he stops, shakes his head. "And then I find out two people I hired to back you up, keep you safe...were trying to kill you…" he shrugs. "I failed you. I tapped your phones...to protect you. I swear. I couldn't take it if I let someone else get too close, and I thought Agent Porter was someone I could trust. Believe me, I never would have…"

"Why?" Olivia's voice asked softly. She made her way over to Cragen and sat on the step below him, tugging on Elliot's hand to get him to sit next to her.

When he sits, though, he pulls her into his lap for his own comfort and so she could be eye-level with Cragen. He brushes her hair back and whispers, "Go ahead."

Still looking at Cragen, she shakes her head. "If your only concern was whether or not we were safe, why would you and Dean…"

"I thought this," he wags a finger between the two of them, meeting Elliot's eyes for a brief moment, "Was just because you almost…" he chokes and clears his throat. "Because of what happened. I didn't think…" he shakes it away, knowing the thought sounds ridiculous as soon as it's formed. "And because...is that really how you want to do this? You don't want to plan it? The dress, the guests, the cake, the car…"

"That's gonna happen," Elliot interjects. "Later, when we have…" he inhales and says, "We were pretty damn sure you were gonna fire one of us when you found out, so forgive us for not sending out thousand dollar invitations! Shit, all we really want...right now...is to have some schmuck in a black robe bang a gavel and tell me we are legally married and entitled to take care of each other, tell me she is legally mine, the kids can legally call her mom...and when we prove to you that a piece of paper isn't gonna change anything about how we work together...then we'll have the party with the church and the priest...and the dress of her dreams and the cake no one will eat, guests whose names we don't even know...and I will stand there and proudly tell the world that I'm going to love, honor, and obey her for the rest of my life."

Cragen smiles at him, blinks back a few tears of his own, and he says, "Then I'm the one who owes the two of you an apology." He looked at Olivia. "I never meant to hurt you, I was just…" he sighs and continues. "I thought getting you and Porter back together would...snap you out of what I thought this was. We planned to keep you guys running around in circles until it was too late to go see a judge...but tonight, when I found out he had other plans for you...I called in a favor from a friend."

Olivia nods and pulls herself out of Elliot's hold. She stands and shoves her hands in her pockets. "Thanks," she says, but she jerks her head to get her hair out of her eyes and says, "You didn't have to bug us, you could've just asked. This...this was beyond…" she runs her tongue along her lips, shakes her head, unable to finish her thought.

Cragen narrows his eyes as he looks at her, and he realizes this thing between her and Elliot has been going on longer than he thought. "What happened," he asks, "In Syracuse?" He looks at Elliot, then back at Olivia, and he gnaws at his cheek as he waits for someone to answer.

"Nothing," she breathes, and she smiles. "Everything." She swallows a new lump of emotion, and she takes a step backward. "That's something you're not entitled to know, something you wouldn't have heard no matter what wires you tapped. That's between me and El." She looks over at Elliot and her heart skips. "Between us," she says softly, and she turns, heading further down the stairs.

Elliot stands then, and before he follows Olivia he looks at Cragen. "We were trying to keep our private life private, but if you'd have just asked...we would've been honest with you." He shrugs. "Going behind our backs...even if it was for a valid reason...betrayed our trust. She's a lot more pissed off at you than I am, so your plan backfired."

Cragen scoffs and watches them rush down the stairs and hopes like hell he didn't drive a wedge between himself and the only family he has left.

Elliot hears Cragen sigh and the footsteps tell him that he's gone back out into the unit hallway. He picks up his speed to catch up to Olivia and he grabs her just as she reaches the side door. He pushes first, holding it for her, and he winks when she smiles at him. "You let him have it," he says, and he swipes away the last of her tears.

She nods, and then she moves into him, wraps her arms around him, relishing in the way he shields her from the frigid breeze at her back. "I don't know where that came from."

"He judged us, made you doubt us," he tells her, and he finally pushes her further out into the alley, letting the door close behind him. "You fought back, because you don't…" he sighs and he slides his hand down her arm and clutches her hand. "You don't doubt us, regret us...regret me."

"No," she exhales, and then she leans in to kiss him. "I'm regretting a few of the choices I made, but being with you…" she shakes her head. "The one fucking thing I did right." She kisses him again and pulls him, leading him toward the parking lot, toward the car, toward the house that awaits with its new furniture and fresh carpets.

"He had a point," Elliot speaks. He shyly scratches at the nape of his neck, hoping she will be agreeable to what he's about to suggest. "We should...plan a wedding. I didn't think…" he pulls on her, stopping her from getting into the passenger side of the Ford. "I was so consumed with fixing things, making our life from Syracuse our life here, I just didn't think...is that what you want?" He blinks as he stares at her, holding his breath.

"Like you said," she says, and she lifts her left hand and cups the side of his face. She gives him a warm, adoring smile. "Later. We will plan everything later, but right now...I just want…"

He stops her, slants his mouth over hers and presses her against the car. He moans her name, pulls away breathlessly, and nuzzles her for a moment. "I love you."

She chuckles and kisses the end of his nose. "I love you, too."

**A/N: A night home. Next.**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"You sure you're okay?" His voice is cool, though his nerves are shot. He twists the glass in his hand, swirling the ice and the last sip of deep brown liquor at the bottom. From his vantage point on the couch, he stares at her, wondering what the hell is happening outside, because she's focused on something beyond the window. "Babe?"

"Perfect," she says. She knows he doesn't buy it.

He smirks as he stands up. He drops the glass onto the new marble and brass coffee table and he steps over to her, instantly remembering the night he told her...really told her how in love with her he is, and he wraps his arms around her and rests his head on her shoulder. "What is so interesting out here?"

She shrugs, it makes her cheek brush against his. "We aren't that far away from my old place...and still it's so much quieter here. No sirens, no yelling, no loud neighbors…"

"No," he says, "See, I told you, it's exactly like…"

"I know," she says as her eyes close. She turns into him, nuzzles him a bit. "That's what I was thinking. How everything is…"

"You're thinking about Cragen," he tells her, because he knows, and he shakes his head. "So am I. But I'm also thinking about how fucking wrong he was, how he could even think you would give a guy like Porter the fucking time of day is just…" he scoffs and rolls his eyes, squeezes her a little tighter. "What kind of detective is he, really?"

She chuckles and sinks into him.

"Success," he gasps, loving the way her laughter hits his ears. His eyes trail down her body, over the long sleeved black shirt, down to her light blue sweatpants. He licks his lips, remembers watching her change into them, knows there is nothing between the cotton and her bare skin. "Look, we know he isn't gonna fire us, or split us up, he already feels guilty as…"

"What he said…" she cuts him off, and then her thoughts momentarily drift to her own mother, the reasons she is so quick to believe every relationship she has is doomed to fail. "What I said…" she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip and drags her nails down his chest, their edges catch on the cotton of his tee shirt. "I've always taken him at his word, trusted everything the man said, so when he...he put the pieces together and it made sense. This all happened after we almost got blown up, after you found out Kathy was running around on you, after…"

"After we spent a few weeks together and found out what love really is," he interjects. "That's what started this, not some trauma induced rebound."

She smiles but it's a hesitant one, she looks downward, fingers the hem of his shirt nervously. "Hearing him say it...brought up every doubt I have been trying so hard to ignore, every fear I have been fighting for months... and knowing he had a hand in helping Porter fuck with us, El, it makes me doubt everything I thought I knew about him. Not you. You're the only person…"

"Shh," he quiets her as he kisses her, smirking against her lips.

She kisses him back, but then pushes him away softly. "We never talked about it," she whispers. "What happened in Syracuse. And what didn't. What would have...what almost happened." She plays with him, nips at his lips as he tries to kiss her again, brushes her lips over his as he teases her. "We got back and then...it took over two weeks thus to even acknowledge…"

"Talking about it would've hurt," he whispers back to her, finally letting his lips press into hers. "Thinking about it fucking hurt. Because I...well, you know…"

"That first time...that first party, when we infiltrated Calderone's club," she interrupts, blinking. "I know he was watching us, I know you were only giving him what he wanted but I swear I was..."

"That's not what happened. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you," he assures her. "Him watching was a bonus. You looked so fucking gorgeous in that red dress, your hair was curly and the way you were looking at me all night...shit, we were so far away from anyone who would've possibly made me feel guilty for it. I admitted to myself, long ago, how I felt about you…and that night, I guess, I had to do something about it." He grins at her and moves closer to her. "You didn't stop me, you kissed me, too. You meant it, baby, I felt how much you…"

Her lips stop his words. She nods as she kisses him, her hands wrap around his head and her fingers dig into his scalp. "I meant it," she breathes. She pulls him closer as her body turns and she moans when he presses her into the stone wall behind her. "I knew…" she pants, her eyes still closed. "The whole time I knew...it wasn't just the job."

He shakes his head and brushes his nose against hers. "The second party...I knew we were taking things further than we needed to, but damn, I needed to feel you...taste you…" he kisses her and slips his hands into her sweatpants. "I had no intention of coming home and leaving it all behind, you know that, now." He slams his mouth over hers again, working his fingers between her thighs, finding home. He chuckles with pride as he feels her body give into him, her back arching and her head dropping back into the wall. "Just like I need to feel you now." He kisses her. "Always." He bites at her chin. "Forever."

She grips his shoulders tighter as he pushes another finger into her. "That long?"

"Longer," he promises. He bites her neck and suckles her pulse, twists his fingers and rolls his wrist. "Remember...the night we took him down?" he asks, breathless. He marvels at the purpling skin of her neck, he can see the throb of her heartbeat beneath it.

"Yes," she tells him, both an answer to his question and a response to his ministrations. She's trying to control her volume and her breathing, the kids are in the house, and she rocks her hips into his hand.

"We knew he was watching us," he tells her, his voice low and breathy, in her ear. His left hand pulls at his white tee as his left drills into her. "Knew he had eyes through the window, waiting, and I…" he licks the conch of her ear, pants into it and feels her shiver. "I was so fucking terrified that...something would happen…" he moves and looks into her eyes. "If he didn't barge in on us when he did...I mean, we were ready for him, but he came in too soon," he stops moving his hand, he stares at her. He takes a single deep breath. "I wouldn't have stopped, baby. I would have...I wanted to…" he chokes on the memory. "Fuck, I needed to make love to you that night. I needed to tell you, show you, how much I loved you...just in case we…"

"We didn't," she stops him, kisses him, bucks her hips to tell him he needs to move again. "We're here, and…" she nods at him. "I know now." She cups his face and searches his eyes. "I know."

He slams his mouth over hers with a guttural but muffled moan of her name, his right hand shoves her pants over hips as his own sweats drop to the floor at his feet. "I don't think you do," he tells her, and he smirks when her eyes fall, he knows she's watching him stroking his cock. He moves closer to her, lets himself tease her entrance as he thumbs her clit, and he whispers. "You have no fucking idea how much I love you, how long I've been in love with you…what the fuck you mean to me." He pulls his fingers out of her and pushes the tip of his dick inside of her, his hands smooth down to hold the back of her thighs, and he drops his head to hers. "Years," he tells her. "It's never been lust...though, I mean, yeah...I've always wanted to fuck the shut out of you," he laughs. He kisses her nose and says, "But I have been so fucking desperately in love with you…"

"For four years." She breathes, and her eyes widen when he pushes further, deeper, filling her. Her ankles link behind him as he hikes her up around his waist and sinks deeper into her. She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, scratching at the nape of his neck as he moves slowly. She doesn't know how any of this happened but she's not stopping it any time soon. Quite the opposite. She's counting down the hours until they get to make their whirlwind of a spontaneous relationship a permanent partnership, on and off the field.

"Every case, every conversation, every cold beer at Harry's, every sleepless night in the cribs," he lists as he slowly thrusts. "Every single time we went under as a couple, it was never pretend." He kisses her and grunts as he moves his body faster, trying to physically convince her that he's serious. Their kiss is fire and frenzy and for a split second he wonders what his mother would think, what hers would, and he chuckles.

"Elliot," she whimpers, feeling her body begin to burn and tighten, far too soon and not soon enough. She hears her phone ring and she whines, suddenly regretting sending her new number to the people at work who needed it. She grimaces as he starts to slam into her harder and faster, a face to the finish.

He needs to make her cum before he does, he needs to cum before the phone stops ringing. His eyes roll when she clenched around him and he whispers, "I love you," before he feels her explode. He can feel her quaking between his body and the wall, and when she tells him what he needs to hear, he fires into her with a heat that scares him.

She kisses him hard in an attempt to stifle the cry of his name that's ripping out of her throat.

He stays inside of her, his grip stable as he carries her toward the coffee table. He grabs their angry phones and sits her on the back of the couch as he answers his call and hands her phone to her. "Stabler," he breathes, his respite from his harsh world all too brief. "What? Slow down. Where are you?"

"We're on the way," she says, and she hangs up abruptly, kisses Elliot, and says, "Are you gonna be…"

"I'll be fine," he smiles and kisses her forehead, he thrusts once to prove his point, and he kisses her nose and then her lips and then her chin. "If it was you…" he shakes his head, unable to even voice the rest of the thought. "I love you."

She kisses him again and as he pulls out of her she hops off the sofa. She follows him into the bedroom, into their walk-in closet. They choose matching suits and dress in silence, pulling at and buttoning each other, and she can't help thinking that this is another move in the game they're unwilling to play.

"El?" She looks at him, raises an eyebrow.

He licks his lips and nods, silently agreeing with the thought he knows is in her head. "I know," he says. "We just have to prove it." He kisses her again as he adjusts his gun at his hip, and he flattens his smile.

He knows they're already two steps ahead.

**A/N: What happened?**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: ****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Are you sure you're okay?" Olivia's voice is soft as she speaks, her hand is wrapped around the woman's fingers, her eyes are red and dry with the refusal to cry. She drags her left hand down the front of her blue shirt, trying to stay calm.

The woman nods, trying to smile. "I knew I wasn't in any real danger, I knew I was...what did Elliot call it? Bait," she laughs through her tears. "Just because I knew it was coming doesn't mean I wasn't…" she shakes her head and lifts her other hand off the exam table. "I'm still shaking," she admits. "You were right, then? You know the guy?"

Olivia nods once and licks her lips. "We know who it was, but we need you to verify it. Try to remember. His eyes, you saw his eyes. What color were they?"

The woman blinks, her hand squeezes Olivia's again, and she sighs. "I think they were blue. No, um...green. Hazel, maybe? Light. Not brown." She squeezes Olivia's hand again and shakes her head, sniffling. "I don't know," she cries. "God, I don't know! Everything happened so fast, I just did what you guys told me I should do, and then when the cops came up to us, he ran off...I don't know."

"Okay," Olivia soothes, running a hand over the woman's blonde hair. "Kathy, the officers who were following you said that it looked like he was trying to hold his pants up. You need to tell me if he…"

"He didn't...um, I wasn't…" Kathy spits in harsh sobs. "He didn't do much more than scare the crap out of me. Please, tell Elliot I wasn't…"

"I will, okay. He knows, but I'll tell him," Olivia quiets her. She tries to smile, and she wonders momentarily why Kathy thinks it's important enough to make a point of telling Elliot she wasn't raped even though there was never a chance she would be. "You were smart, okay? You did exactly what was asked of you. You bit him, we got his DNA, we got him."

"I never told you…" Kathy stops and she sighs. "You were always nice, no matter how rotten I was to you, and you...you didn't have to be."

"You were my partner's wife," Olivia shrugs, another small smile gracing her lips. "I thought we needed to be...friends or…" she licks her lips. "Look, that...it's in the past, okay? Whatever happened, it's over, and right now, you need to know that I'm here, okay? So is he."

Kathy looks up and clears her throat, she blinks and her tears fall, she winces when they run over the cracks in her dry lips. "Did you...I mean, the two of you...are you…"

"What are you asking me, Kathy?" Olivia lowers her voice, the panic rising. This is it, she realizes. The moment when she has to either face the truth or lie to Kathy.

"You're marrying him, right? He told me...the last time we had an actual conversation, he wanted to…" Kathy bites her stinging lip and shakes her head again. "I'm not upset, I'm just...regretting a lot of things, right now. Doing what I did...hurting him, betraying our marriage...those are pretty high on the list," she scoffs. "I need to know, right now, Olivia, if you have any intention of walking away from him the way I did. Because if you do, I can't let you go out there and let him think he's finally getting his happily ever after."

Olivia squeezes her hand again, shakes her head slowly. "Not a chance in Hell," she says with a wink. "I think you know that, don't you? There's nothing...nothing that could ever make me…"

"Do what I did," Kathy almost whispers, dropping her gaze. "You love him like I couldn't," she asks with another soft stifled cry. "Do that for me? Love him the way...the way only you can." She twists her hand out of Olivia's grip, chuckles softly at her own emotions, and wipes her eyes as she says, "Um...I remember, he had a scar. A small one. Underneath his left eye."

"Thank you, that'll help hold him," Olivia says, and she leans over to hug the woman who was once a sworn enemy. "Call me if you need anything. I mean it, Kathy, not just because you're a…"

"I'm not a victim," Kathy says with a gleam in her eyes. "I bit the bastard, scratched the fuck out of him, screamed at the top of my lungs. You had your guys with me, I was a part of your...what do you call it? Sting Op?" She chuckles as Olivia nods. "I channeled my inner Benson." She winks at Olivia and says, "Kiss the kids for me."

"I will," Olivia smiles, and she heads out of the exam room, dropping her stern facade and keeling over once she rounds the corner. She breathes heavily, harshly, with her hands on her knees and she shakes her head telling Elliot not to touch her at the moment. "I'm fine, I'm just...I can't believe...I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? Using her was my idea," he whispers to her. "We knew he was gonna do this, we had someone tailing Kathy, she was never in any real danger, you know that, right?" He brushes the hair out of her eyes as she straightens up. "Lab called, by the way. Said it was a fast trace because he's in the federal system. You know he only did this to get to us, so we either give him what he wants or…"

"No more games," she snaps. "He attacked your ex-wife, hoping to get far enough for the case to officially land in our laps, and…"

"And he didn't hurt her," he whispers, cupping her chin. "You heard her story, you talked to the doctor, there's not a scratch on her, she's just shaken up. She did more damage to him, honestly," he chuckles. "And because Reynolds and Garcia were tailing her, they nailed the son of a bitch."

"Then I'm leaving it up to you," she bites her lip and folds her arms, pulling back from him slightly. There's something about having intimate proximity while his ex-wife is in a hospital room that doesn't seem right or kind. "You want to run it, we will. You want to leave it in someone else's hands, I'm with you." She looks over her shoulder. "If you want to go in there and be with Kathy, then I will go…"

"Hey," he speaks and there's something much different in his voice now. He reaches for her, hooking his fingers around her arm, his ring catching on a button on her sleeve. "I told you...I asked Kathy to do this because if it was you, I would be furious, devastated, torn between running after the son of a bitch to kill him myself and holding onto you for dear life. I'm sorry we used her as leverage, but I'm not feeling guilty or like I owe it to her to run into her arms." He blinks. "You think...that's what Porter wanted?"

Biting her lip, she nods. "Dean is a lot of things, but he's not violent. Not like this. He never would have gone far enough to…" she shakes her head and takes a breath. "I'm pretty sure he wanted to do exactly what he did, scare her enough that she called us, figuring you'd feel responsible, you'd go back to her because she would need you with her."

"He didn't know we knew he'd try it, that we told Kathy to…" he curses under his breath and he runs a hand down his face. "You're with me, right? My decision. You said it was up to me?"

She nods again, holding her arms out in submission. "Yeah," she huffs.

He checks his watch, grins, and says, "We'll give the bastard what he wants," and he looks into Olivia's eyes. "After we swing by Judge Carter's office. I'll be damned if I let Porter stop us a second time." He kisses her cheek, pokes his head into Kathy's room and offers a smile and a wave, and then grabs Olivia's hand. He pulls her down the hall, their heels clicking on the sterile tile. There's a skip in his step, he's humming and dancing as he walks with her through the glass doors.

"You okay?" she asks, tugging on his hand. She stops him before he unlocks the car.

He turns with a laugh. "I'm fucking happy, I'm excited!" he chuckles, and he pulls her to him, wrapping himself around her. "I can't fucking wait to make you mine."

"I'm already yours," she whispers, her heart lurching at his words, knowing how much he means them and how fucking serious he is. "But I know you mean…"

"Permanently," he interrupts, kissing her softly. "Legally." He nips at her lower lip. "Forever." He opens the door for her and winks at her, and once she's in the passenger seat, he closes the door and whistles a happy tune as he walks around to the driver's side.

She smiles as she watches his face, the way his grin reaches his ears, the light in his eyes and the brightness of the blue in them. She sees the pure joy on his face and reaches a hand out to cup over his on the gear shift. "I love you," she tells him, and she notices when he turns to look at her that there are tears in his eyes. "Okay, what...why are you…"

He shakes his head, holding up a wagging finger, and he needs a minute to compose himself. "I just…" he exhales and moves his shaking hands to the steering wheel, pulling away from the curb and heading in the direction of the courthouse. "I've always been the guy that had to sacrifice, that had to settle. I gave up so many dreams and spent half my life with a woman I only sort of loved because I didn't know what true love really was. I had to work my ass off to keep my life together because nothing ever came easy." He smiles as tears slowly roll out of the corners of his eyes. "Not with Kathy."

She moves her hand and it's almost in her own lap before he snaps back for it, clutching it tightly.

"With you...God, with you it always all came so fucking easily. I didn't have to try, I didn't have to sacrifice anything or hide who I was, I didn't have to bite my tongue or pick my battles because you and me, baby, we know how to fucking handle compromise and when we fight it's never personal. This...what we're about to do...it means everything to me," he sniffles and he blinks, turns the wheel with one hand, and he inhales sharply. "When we were in Syracuse, fuck, it felt like I was finally getting something I want, what I need...I couldn't give you up, and I'm not taking the chance of losing you, not after finally fucking doing something that's the absolute best for me, for the kids, and...I get to take care of you, love you, and no one can fucking tell me it's wrong. Not anymore."

She squeezes his hand and she has no words that will make any sense other than, "I love you," and they come out of her mouth on an unstable breath.

"I love you, too," he almost whispers, and he drives faster, weaves in and out of lanes, never letting go of her hand. He brings it up to his face and kisses her knuckles as he pulls in front of the courthouse, and he blinks once as he parks. "Is this...what you want?" He looks at her and his heart breaks just a bit. He realizes he never asked her, he just expected her to follow his lead, and she did. "Baby, tell me, right now. We don't have to go in there if…"

She doesn't even let him finish his sentence. She's out of the car and halfway up the stairs, and she looks over her shoulder at him. She holds up her left hand. "Right now, these are just symbolic. You wanna move your ass a little faster so they can actually be…" she laughs, her words falling into harsh chuckles, watching him run up the stairs as though he's running for his life. She yelps when he picks her up and spins her around, and she can't help the moan that escapes when he kisses her. "Come on," she says, pulling his hands as she walks backward toward the doors. "We don't have a lot of time."

He grins as he follows her, his nerves decaying and leaving sheer happiness in their wake. He strides ahead of her and leads her toward the door with Carter's name on it. He raises a hand, knocks three times, and kisses her with everything he has, just as the judge opens the door.

"Detectives," Carter says with a small laugh, "Please stop, uh, collecting evidence in my hallway." He raises an eyebrow as the two turn toward him. "You are here, I assume, for the same reason you were coming to see me yesterday?" He watches them nod, and he can't help but see them as young children who are about to meet Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld. He steps to the side, lets them into his chambers, and he gestures to his desk. "Sign them," he commands, and he takes his place in front of them.

Olivia swirls her name in every blank space, then hands Elliot the pen as she starts to shiver.

"We, uh, we have to be at work in ten minutes," Elliot says, dropping the pen to the surface of the desk. "So, uh, if you don't mind, can we just skip to the good part?" He smiles sheepishly at the judge, and hands him the signed license and certificate of intent.

"The good part, huh?" Judge Carter laughs, and he pretends not to know what he means. He lifts a very large, heavy, leather-bound book into his hands, raises one brow and nods.

With innocently eager chuckles, Elliot and Olivia each raise their right hands and place their left palms over each other on the top of the Bible. They share a simultaneous breath, a sweet look, and they wait for Carter to speak.

The judge clears his throat and smiles. "The two of you have caused me more trouble than any other cops I have ever worked with," he speaks. "And long ago, I knew why. It has been an honor to call you both colleagues, to watch you not only grow together as partners on the job, but to be the lucky one who gets to be privy to this special union. Thank you for trusting me with this, just as you now must trust each other with your lives, your hearts, your souls. Believe in each other, always, honor each other and value each other above all else. Promise to care for each other, your family, in only the most tender and gentle ways. Never take each other for granted, and never cast each other aside. Are these vows you swear, on this Bible, on this day, to keep for as long as you both shall live?"

"Yes," Elliot declares loudly and firmly, his heart beating so hard against his chest he's sure it's about to burst.

"Yes," Olivia affirms at the same exact time, in the same exact way.

Carter eyes them, then notices their hands, "I see you're already wearing your rings. You weren't kidding when you said you needed to skip to the good part, were you?" He watches them both shake their heads and laugh, and then he says, "By the authority vested in my by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He looks at Elliot, winks, and says, "Kiss her."

Elliot lets out the most satisfied noise he's ever made, and when his lips touch Olivia's, his tears fall again. He cups her face, he can feel her tears rolling over his fingertips and he swipes them away as he deepens the kiss just a bit more. "I love you," he whispers. "My wife. You're mine." He pulls away from her with a soft sound, and he turns with a sniffle. He shakes Carter's hand and says, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"An absolute pleasure, Detective Stabler," Carter says, "I will have these filed as soon as possible, we will mail you a copy of your license, and when you do have that lavish ceremony you spoke about, don't forget I need a vegetarian entree."

"You got it, Your Honor," Elliot laughs, and he takes Olivia's hand and pulls her out of the office, down the hall, passed the paintings and photos, through the lobby that suddenly looks so much brighter and more welcoming than it ever had before, and he stops her on the steps. "Wow," he breathes, "This is...I mean, I felt married to you for so long, but this is...our first case as…"

"Husband and wife," she says, winking at him, and she kisses him softly. She walks with him toward their Ford, hoping the pile of shit that's waiting for them at work won't be brutal enough to bring her down from this high. She gets into the car and lets out a deep long-held breath. "Syracuse," she says with a small laugh, shaking her head. She looks over at Elliot as he starts the car. "I love you," she whispers.

He smiles, leans over the console, and kisses her. "I love you, too."

**A/N: What happens when they get to the station? Is it almost over?**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"No one got hurt," Porter spits as he rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. He briefly wonders why Elliot is alone in the room with him, for a split second he thinks it's like those old film noir flicks where everyone turns a blind eye and lets the disgruntled cop kill the bad guy. He shakes it off and brushes non-existent dust off of his knee. "I roughed up your wife a little, to piss you off and get your partner's attention, you're blowing this way out of…"

Elliot's hands slam down onto the long silver table so hard the entire thing shakes, the metal clangs and the legs wobble, the plastic edge cracks. "My ex-wife," he snaps, emphasizing the 'ex,' and he points a finger at Porter, baring his teeth like an angry wolf. "You will never lay a fucking finger on my wife you son of a bitch!"

Porter's eyes widen, his jaw drops as he turns and sends a horrified look toward the two-way glass on the wall, where he knows Olivia is standing. "You...you two...you actually…" he gulps and looks back at Elliot with genuine hatred in his eyes. "You married her?"

Elliot smirks and lets out a single victorious grunt. "We knew you'd do this, ya know. My...partner and I figured this was a logical next step in your fucked up chess game," he says, and he slaps down a photo of Kathy and a small USB drive. "We figured it out and because we did, Kathy's been wired and heavily guarded for the last two days. Everything you said, and did, is on tape." He pounds his fists on the table again, a screw clings its way down to the floor and rolls toward the barred window. He glares at Porter, his nostrils flare, and he leans over to look the man in the eyes as he sneers, "Checkmate, asshole."

Porter blinks once. "You...how did you…" he clears his throat and he stiffens slightly. He runs his sweating palms over the sleeves of his dingy-looking white shirt. "How the hell could you have possibly known what my intentions were, and how the hell didn't I know the two of you actually made the mistake of going to see that judge?"

Elliot grins, but it's not a happy smile at all. He cracks his knuckles and breathes out through his nose like a raging bull. "We got new phones. Ya know, ones that aren't bugged, and as for how we knew? You're not that slick. You're actually pretty fucking predictable, and we...me and Liv, that is, we figured out how you operate. Spent enough time watching you and your half-assed procedural skills crash and burn upstate. Going after my ex was a logical next step for you, you just didn't count on the fact that trying to get me away from Liv…" he pauses to grin a bit more smugly, cross his arms, and shrug. "Wouldn't have worked, no matter what you did."

"Just wait," Porter chuckles. "She'll leave your ass when she realizes you're not what she needs."

Elliot scoffs, not even acknowledging Porter's drivel let alone justifying it with a response; he knows better, and he fucking refuses to make this as personal as Porter wants it to be. It's an interrogation, with two feds, Olivia, and Cragen watching him like angry vultures from the other side of the glass. "Attempted rape, attempted kidnapping, menacing, assault, conspiracy...and those are only the charges we have the proof to validate," he says calmly, and he chuckles again, bending one arm at the elbow and scratching his temple with one finger. "Now, I could count stalking, but New York doesn't have clear cut laws for that, technically not a crime we can pin on you, but harassment, unlawful surveillance, and…"

"Give me a break," Porter barks, but his voice cracks, his cool demeanor finally falling away to reveal the nerves and perhaps fear. "I was pursuing a relationship with a woman, trying to get her to notice how much effort I was putting into things, but…" he scoffs and shakes his head, gestures to the interrogation room. "No bitch is worth this." He watches, he waits. He's sure he's going to make Elliot do the one thing that would get him off scott free, and he braces himself for the left hook he assumes is coming. When it doesn't, he tilts his head. "No harm, no foul," he spits out and he tugs on his yellowing shirt cuffs. He moves to stand, but Elliot shoves him back down into the chair.

"You're not going anywhere," Elliot states almost too gravelly to be human. "You were fired, remember? You can't hide behind your badge this time. You're going down, you son of a bitch, but if you ever get out of your cage," his grumbling words rattle in his throat and filter through the boxed in room like the bass of an old stereo. He leans down, twists the collar of Porter's shirt just tight enough to make him whimper. "Stay away from my wife, away from my family, or I swear to God, I will kill you."

Porter gags a bit when he feels his collar tighten more, and he hooks his hands around Elliot's wrists just as the door swings open. He shoots his head toward the noise, a pleading look on his face, but it turns to horror as he sees the FBI's answer to IAB staring back at him. "You...you can't charge me, Paul,...I didn't do anything wrong, here!"

"We listened to the tape," one of the suited men speaks, and he nods at Elliot, telling him that his job is done and they'll take it from here.

Elliot licks his lips once as he drops Porter back down to the chair, nods back at the fed, and leaves the room, instantly grabbing Olivia's hand. With a grunt, he drags her out of the observation pit without saying word one to Cragen. He knows he's pulling too roughly, squeezing too tightly, walking too quickly, but he maneuvers through the sqaudroom, out the doors, into the hall, and he punches the stairwell door with his free hand. He makes it down three steps before he stops and turns, yanking her into him and crashing his lips into hers as though he's never going to kiss her again.

She protests at first, pushing him back, but his hold on her is overpowering and her efforts are fruitless. She feels him tense up as she fights, he pulls her harder against him and growls slightly, and she gives in, letting his kiss consume her. She feels his hands loosen and slip downward and she moans when his palms cup her ass and squeeze.

His hips thrust forward, his hard cock straining against his suit pants in a vain attempt to feel more of her despite the layers of fabric between them. He growls again, mumbles her name, and it's clear now that he is acting solely out of desperation. The repressed fear of what could have happened if Porter had been more determined, more vicious, and the paralyzing fury that had to go unspent in the interrogation room are battling for control, yet both lose out to his severe need for her. His love for only her.

She feels his right hand moving toward the front of her black pants and she gasps before she finds the strength to push him away. "Calm down," she warns, breathless and panting, shaking her head. "Work. We're at work." She inhales, her lungs burn, her lips sting, her teeth ache, she still tastes him on her tongue. "What are you…"

He shakes his head and kisses her again, softer but just as desperate. "I need...fuck, I need something I can't fucking have right now." He turns and balls his left hand into a fist, and he readies a punch as his heart hammers against his rib cage. He stops just short of the follow through, not out of fear of breaking his knuckles, but because he knows that hitting the wall might scratch his ring. He smiles as he looks at the platinum band, he runs the pad of his right index finger over its shiny surface and suddenly he's calm. "I wouldn't have let him hurt you."

"What?" she asks, hoarse, and she narrows her eyes. She puts her hands on her hips and she's still panting, still reeling from his frenzied attack, she tilts her head and says, "Who?"

"That bastard," he barely breathes, turning to face her. He looks into her eyes and offers a glum shrug. "Porter." He moves closer to her and takes her hands. "We had a feeling he'd go after Kathy, or the kids, but if he skipped them and came for you…" he moves closer, lowers his voice. "I would have fucking killed him before he so much as looked at you."

"I don't doubt that," she says lightly, trying to smile. This side of him is still new and somehow all too familiar. His aggression is firmly in place but his possessiveness and devotion are more evident than ever and it scares her. "He can't talk his way out of this, you…" she runs a hand over his shoulder, down his arm. "I'm proud of you. You stayed calm, you didn't...I mean, I thought if any interrogation was gonna get violent, it would be this one."

"Trust me, it took everything I had not to rip his fucking head off." He shakes his head and presses his lips together for a moment. "Not with Cragen watching," he tells her honestly. "Not...not in front of you, on our wedding day," he adds with a wink and a smile, and then he rolls his eyes. "Not in front of two federal fuckbags who would have used any small misstep as a reason to drop the charges."

"I'm sure they would have understood," she jokes, tugging on his tie coyly.

He chuckles and he runs a few fingers along the crinkles in his forehead as he squints. "I just...one thing I couldn't help wondering…" he drops his arms and he pulls her down with him as he sits on one of the stone steps. "If we weren't together...if we were still fucking ignoring our feelings like a couple of assholes…" he hears her snort and laughs with her before he says, "Would you have, uh...would you have actually gone out with that douchebag?"

She quirks an eyebrow and it should be all the answer he needs, but the stone face she gets in return tells her he needs to hear it. He needs the reassurance. "I would rather chew off my own arm than spend any time with Dean Porter. Well, time that doesn't involve you and me pretending to be…" she pauses, looks down at their clasped together hands, and she smiles. "Well, I guess...it's not pretend anymore."

"No," he whispers, and he moves slowly, and as his lips touch hers, he says, "It never was. Ever." He moves the final millimeter and kisses her softly, but manages to pull away from her a respectable distance as the door behind them creaks open.

Cragen looks down at the pair, sighing as their heads turn toward him. "You okay?" he asks, but it's more of a way to gauge whether or not they've been necking in the stairwell or not.

Olivia glances at Elliot, because she isn't sure of the answer.

Elliot nods, closes his eyes. "Yeah, I'm just...dealing with a lot." He swallows hard, runs his hands over his head, and lets out a low groan. "We catch something?"

"Yeah," Cragen nods, holding the door open wider, expecting them to rise and walk back to work as though nothing is wrong at all. "And your mother called."

They both look at him wearing matching expressions of confusion and disbelief. They eye each other suspiciously, then turn back to Cragen asking a silent question.

Cragen blinks rapidly and mutters a few monosyllabic noises. "You, Benson, your mother. She called," he says flatly. "I took a message, but she wanted me to tell you she's home, uh, you can call her back on your way to Mount…" he stops, suddenly noticing something about his detectives. He tugs on his waistband and belt, lifting his drooping tan pants back up where they belong, lets out a stiff breath, and he says, "I...you…" he points to them as they take the final step and move out into the hallway. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Nope," Elliot says, and he offers the man a sickeningly sweet smile as he slaps his captain on the shoulder. "You heard my entire conversation with Porter, so I'm sure you don't need us to tell you anything. Mount what now?"

Cragen coughs once, surprised, and says, "Vic at Mount Saint Dominic's, you'll be meeting her parents there as well, be gentle, huh?"

Elliot narrows his eyes. "When am I not?" He chuckles as Cragen shoots him a knowing glance and walks down the hallway. He slaps Olivia's ass lightly, goading her in the direction of the bullpen. "You wanna drive?"

Her eyes widen and she wonders if marriage has made him more insane than he was before, and she furrows her brow. "You never let me drive."

"Think of it as a wedding present," he laughs, and he tosses her the keys to the Ford as he grabs their jackets. "Oh, and, uh...don't forget to call your mother." He whistles to himself as he helps her put her coat on, slips his arms into his own, and he drops his eyes to her ass as they leave. He knows exactly why her mother called, and he loves that it's his duty, his honor, and his right, now, as her husband, to surprise her whenever possible.

Now that Porter and Cragen aren't making them pawns in their sick twisted battle, he's decided it's time to play a few friendly wolf his own.

With his wife.

**A/N: What does Serena want? What does Elliot have up his sleeve? **


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N:****As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Are you gonna call your…" he stops, seeing the glare she's giving him. He closes his mouth and drags a hand down his face. "You should call her, baby," he says softly, and he reaches out and brushes her hair behind her ear. "We got time, this takes a while, you know that."

She bites her lip as she looks around the hospital's hallway, the sterility of it affects her more now than it ever has and she struggles to pinpoint why. She spins her phone around in her hand as she eyes the few people at the nurse's station, one on the phone gesturing wildly to the man next to her for a pen, and she thinks about how incredibly similar her job is to theirs. She exhales and lets her eyes drift down the hall, the knowledge that behind the large wooden doors a doctor is performing an intensely invasive examination on a fifteen year old girl makes her stomach churn. She sighs and shakes her head as she resignedly dials her mother's number and raises the phone to her ear.

He bites his lip as he watches her face contort, the flashes of worry, fear, confusion, hope cross her features and he moves closer and kisses her forehead.

She smiles but then stiffens. "Mom? My boss said you…" she whips her eyes up to meet Elliot's, tears suddenly filling them. "Yeah, we...we did. He, uh, what?" She sniffles and softly and silently kisses his chin. "No, he didn't tell me. When did...this morning?"

He smiles and kisses her lips tenderly. He knows that his secret is out and he knows he did a damn good thing because she's looking at him with more love in her eyes than he's ever seen. "What?" he whispers, smirking.

"No, we are, we will, Mom," she says and she wipes her eyes. "Oh...yeah," her voice is a whisper. Her eyes close and her smile shifts into one that she's sure she's never formed before as she says, "Of course, you can, Mom. Yeah, I love you, too." She sniffles and shakes her head as she hung up, then lifts her gaze to Elliot again. "You called my mother this morning?"

He nods and kisses her again. "I promised her I'd tell her when we...I mean, she knew this was happening and wanted me to let her know when it did. She told me she was happy and proud that her little girl was marrying a Marine." He brushes her hair out of her eyes and winks at her.

Olivia nods with her lip caught between her teeth. "She is, um, she said...when we have the actual wedding...she wants to help me pick out my dress." She leans closer to him, she runs her fingers down his striped tie and crisp shirt, and she says, "You...because of you...she…" she shakes her head, too choked up to speak, and she smiles as she kisses him. "Thank you."

"I love you," he tells her, and he nuzzles her for a moment. He looks up, then, and slaps her in the arm. "Back to work," he spits, seeing the doctor heading toward them with a box filled with sealed white paper and plastic bags. He stands and quickly tugs on the bottom of his suit jacket, smiling professionally as he took the box. "Thanks, Doctor Williams." He nodded at the woman and nudged Olivia. "Let's get this stuff back to the lab."

"Eager to see Barton?" Olivia smirks at him almost seductively as they start to move down the hallway toward the doors.

"Yeah, almost as eager to see her as I am to see my proctologist," he says with a narrow-eyed grin. He lets his eyes travel the length of her body and he leans into her, licks his lips, and in a low voice he says, "I want to get this shit done, go home, and make love to my wife...over and over...until neither of us can fucking move."

Olivia clears her throat and tries to stifle a moan, but it ekes out between the smallest part in her flatly smirking lips. She nods as she turns her head and leads him out through the glass doors. She tugs lightly on her shirt and shakes her head as she rolls her eyes at herself. She hears the beep of the car alarm and opens the driver's side door, and then shoots him a playful grin. "I think your wife is gonna hold you to that." She winks at him and gets in, eagerly starting the car.

From the passenger side, he laughs, and he scratches a patch of stubble under his chin. "Don't get used to this," he says as he reaches over and brushes her hair back. "Tomorrow, I'm back behind the wheel." He laughs again as his body jerks in reaction to the car peeling out of the spot.

She has a mildly amused expression on her face, somewhere between flirtatious and challenging, and she mumbles, "We'll see about that," as she turns the wheel and steps on the gas.

His chuckle hits her ears and it's almost like the first time she'd heard him laugh, the sound strikes her to the core and fills her with a warmth and pure happiness that takes her breath away. Her smile fades with the gravity of how much she loves him, the reality of what they've done sinks in, her eyes dart momentarily to her rings before jerking back to the windshield and the road.

"What?" His question is flat, as if he expected this eventually. "You're not...I mean, it's too late for you to get cold feet, here." He offers a sideways smile and leans into her a bit, but she doesn't lighten her countenance at all. "Liv?"

"No, I'm not, I'm just…" she exhales as she turns the wheel again, an angry driver honks their horn at her failure to use her blinker. "I'm in a place I honestly never thought I'd be," she tells him, and she has mental flashes of bad dates and wine-induced conversations with friends about her resignation to a single life. "I gave up on this, a long time ago. Especially...having this with you." She presses her foot to the brake, slowing the car and finally, she shifts it into park in a spot closer to the back of the building than usual, near the entrance to the morgue and the lab.

He tilts his head and watches her turn the key, cutting the engine. "What are you talking about?"

She sighs again and drops her hands into her lap, turning her head to look at him. "This." She holds up her left hand, shows him the back of it and wiggles her fingers, and shrugs. "I'd convinced myself that I would be a perpetual bachelorette. I had a horrible habit of running when things got serious because I know the realities of this job, and I never wanted to leave anyone...for them to get that phone call at two in the morning...the one that says I'm not coming home." She sniffles as her mouth curls into a sardonic grin. "Finding someone who could handle all of the darkness that comes along with this gig, who can put up with my hours and the fact that...all of those hours are spent with you…" she raises one shoulder to her ear. "I gave up."

He moves his hands fast, both palms hit her face. He brushes his thumbs along the skin under her eyes and he smiles brightly at her. "You only gave people half a chance, you never let anyone else prove they could handle you and this job, because you...you were already sure you found the guy you wanted forever with, and you have him now." He leans over the console. "You know I did the same fucking thing. Even if she hadn't done what she did, I was leaving her...because she was never the one, she was never my happily-ever-after. Baby, everything I really fucking wanted and needed...I found with you." He kisses her lips softly, swipes his palms down her body and unhooks her seatbelt, and the sound of a car starting somewhere in the lot keeps him from making another move that would get them into trouble.

She feels him pull away and she breathes, "I love you." She grins when he says it back to her, and in an instant they're out of the car, carrying the sealed bags and boxes toward the heavy metal door to their left. Once inside, both of them immediately stiffen and Elliot raises the hand that isn't gripping the box of evidence and cups it over his mouth. "Never gonna get used to the smell in here," he complains, and he's almost up to the door to the lab, when someone stops him.

One manicured hand lands on his arm, another tugs at his jacket, and he pulls away from the eager grab and shoots his eyes toward the person trying like hell to practically tear his shirt off. "What the hell…" he rolls his eyes and swats at the woman. "Barton get the hell away from me!"

Barton giggles and shrugs. "I was just straightening out your collar. You got anything for me?" She bats her eyes and licks her lips.

"I do," Olivia grumbles, crossing her arms. "My foot up your ass."

Elliot snickers, hearing her, and he runs his left hand down her arm. "Relax, you won, no contest." He smirks and then turns back to Barton. "We're just here to drop this stuff off with O'Halloran and his band of merry lab rats." He drops his chin a bit to indicate the box in his hands. "Girl's alive so, thankfully, we don't have to deal with you."

Barton feigns offense and slaps both hands over his heart. "Your words wound me, Elliot!" She steps closer to him then. "I was a champion gymnast in high school. A cheerleader in college. I got moves that would make…"

"My wife makes my head spin, every night," he interrupts to stop her come-on, and he feels his lips curl as Olivia's flexibility takes over his thoughts. "She's pretty fucking limber, all that kickboxing and yoga…" he clears his throat and doesn't even say goodbye before giving Olivia a shove with his elbow and veering left through the lab doors. He whispers to her, "You were baring your fangs like a guard dog back there."

"She was trespassing," she retorts. She waves at the lab tech when she catches his eye and straightens up. She shoves her hands in her pockets and says, "This is a pretty time sensitive case, Ry. We need you to run all of this as soon as possible."

"Time sensitive?" O'Halloran takes the box and asks, "How?" He moves, setting the box on a metal table, and he starts to pull out the bags and Ziplocs.

Elliot answers him with a heavy sigh, and then he says, "Our vic is pointing the finger at a politician, he's heading out of town for a campaign tour, we've got forty-eight hours before he gets on a plane and becomes untouchable for a month."

O'Halloran grimaces but nods. "I'm on it," he starts signing logs and unsealing bags, but then he looks up. "Does Cragen know this case is high-profile?"

Olivia lets out a small scoff and raises one eyebrow. "We're pretty damn sure he already knows." She nods her thanks and turns on her heels, knowing Elliot is right behind her. She fishes the car keys out of her pocket and slips her ringed finger through the metal ring, twirls them around a few times, and looks over her shoulder. "What?" She throws the keys to him because she knows he's looking at her with inquiring eyes but doesn't want to ask the question.

"You think he knew when he handed us this case," he states as he shoves the keys into his pocket, and it's not a question at all, but an observation. "Babe?" he prods when he doesn't get an answer.

She leads him up the stairs, heading for their unit, and she says, "What better way to keep us from…" she thinks, she grins at him. "Celebrating."

"Oh, he is not keeping us from…" he laughs as he runs up the few steps between them, grabs her, spins her around, and kisses her. "No, no, we have plans. So we may have to do some damage control and field a few calls, but we can't really do anything else until the lab runs…"

"He's gonna send us to talk to the guy, all of his assistants, running mates, opponents…." she drags a hand through her hair. "He handed us a case that's gonna keep us busy for…"

Elliot cuts her off, kissing her again. It's slow and deep and a promise hangs on his tongue as it swipes and swirls against hers. "Politics," he pants, he kisses her again. "We need to make phone calls before barging in on politicians." He kisses her once more and moans her name softly. "Besides, we still have to take lunch. A long, long lunch." He pulls away from her and takes her hand, leads her up the stairs, and the promise that cling to their kiss finds life on his voice. He looks over his shoulder as they approach the landing. "Nothing...no one...is ever gonna make me think we made a mistake. I want to start...planning."

"A wedding?" Her right brow arcs and her head tilts.

He presses his lips together and whispers, so softly he almost doesn't say it at all. "A baby. A family." He shrugs slightly. "A life."

Her eyes narrow at his words and it's her turn to rush into him with a forceful kiss. She leaves him stunned as she pushes through the door, eager to get to work and show Cragen that she's done playing games. He's made them into his soldiers, and now they're at war.

A war they aim to win.

**A/N: Is Cragen really trying to keep them from having a personal life? or are they just being paranoid? Either way...they find time. ;)**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"What time is it?" She's mumbling with her eyes closed, the heels of her hands rubbing into the sockets. She takes a tired breath and she stifles a moan; her shirt smells like him and it's only reminding her how desperately she needs him, and how she's still not going to be able to have him for a while, yet.

"You're wearing a watch," Elliot replies through a yawn. He's aware that it comes out with more bitterness than he means, but he's a cranky son of a bitch at the moment.

She scoffs, reacting to his pissy attitude but not taking it personally. "Yeah, but my vision is so blurry I can't read it." She crosses her arms and shifts in her seat, brings one hand up to cover her mouth. It's his yawn that triggers hers.

He makes the mistake of looking at her, and because her blazer is off and draped over her chair, her arms are pushing up her perfect breasts and her entire body is straining against her shirt. His dick twitches and he moans softly. "Christ," he spits, dragging his hand down his face. He scratches at his chin; he tells himself he needs to shave. He knows that when his stubble gets to this point, he can't even kiss her without giving her the kind of goosebumps that usually come with dentist drills.

Not that he'll be able to kiss her anytime soon.

"You gonna answer me?" She tilts her head and watches his eyes focus as he snaps back to reality. The way his pupils dilate when he gazes in her direction stuns her; it's the kind of expression she's only seen in addicts and maniacs, and she knows exactly what's causing it because it's the same fucking thing that she's been craving for hours now. "El?" She tries to sound less wanton but her exhaustion mixes with her frustrated lust without her consent.

He narrows his eyes and smirks at her, letting her know he's aware that she wants the same thing he does. "It's ten to one," he tells her. "In the morning. Son of a bitch kept us here all damned night, when we could have gone home and got a few hours of actual sleep." He slams a drawer shut, forgetting why he's opened it in the first place. "Fucking governer asks for discretion and we have to wait until his bastard brother voluntarily comes down here? Waiting a few blocks away wouldn't have made a difference. It's a bullshit call, one that Cragen could've shot down, but since he'd rather have us in his direct line of sight for the rest of our fucking lives…" he shrugs and waves a dismissive hand, leans back in his chair, and says, "He must've forgotten that there are eight beds ten feet away, and an entire floor of showers, stalls, and lockers that, uh, serve more than one purpose." He tugs on his tie and winks at her.

She blushes slightly. It's been long enough, but she's still throbbing from the way he absolutely ravaged her in the bunker the minute he had the chance, as soon as Cragen told them to take a break, take a nap, he'd made good on his word. He made silent, deep love to her until she couldn't move. She flutters her eyes trying to dispel the memory that's making her ache. "Once," she whispers. "Never again." She's made him promise to keep it out of work, but it seems to be the only promise he can't keep. She's about to say something else, but Cragen's door opens, and he heads right for them with his eyes trained on her alone. "What?" she asks.

Cragen hands her a sticky note, consciously avoiding Elliot's infuriated gaze. "He's here," he says. "Waiting for you downstairs, you need to do this by the book, but…" he sighs. "Handle it delicately, don't cuff him, say please and thank you, this could blow up in your face if…"

"I know how to do my job," she barks at him, ripping the purple square of paper out of his hand. She looks at Elliot and stands, grabs her blazer and her jacket, and says, "For the love of God, control your temper." She gives him a soft but meaningful look, because she knows he's already halfway to Hulk and the last thing he needs is a red strike for punching the governor's brother.

"I will if he does," Elliot cracks as he rises. "We got his DNA, prints, and the girl's statement. This should be a lot easier than it's been," he pauses and sends a challenging glare toward Cragen as he pulls on his long trench. "Someone would rather play Political Poker a chip at a time than go all in, apparently."

"Our hands were tied, here, this wasn't my call!" Cragen points a finger and grits his teeth. "I do take orders from other people, Stabler! Not everything I do is a personal attack against you!"

"No, just everything you've done in the last nine months!" He shakes his head and cringes slightly. "We haven't slept for more than an hour at a time, if you can call rolling around on those Rock of Gibraltar bunks fucking sleeping! Ya know, we haven't been home in days, we haven't seen the kids. We got this asshole dead to rights almost twelve hours ago, could've taken him down and been home in time for dinner," he realizes he's getting louder, but he doesn't really give a shit. "You could have sent us to get him as soon as the lab got a hit, but the brass wagged a stick at you, you whimpered like a kicked puppy and kowtowed to the governor because God forbid we interrupt his fundraising banquet to arrest his psycho brother! Oh, the horror that would have been!"

"Watch it, Stabler!" Cragen fumes, nostrils flaring.

Elliot's done watching it, though, and he lowers his voice as he leans into his captain. "You know I'm right. Where's the guy that would tell us to arrest our own kids if it needed to be done? You've had us break up weddings, I arrested a guy at his mother's funeral at your command! Man, you lost your bite, now you're just towing the company line like the spineless cops you used to berate for being cowards. Tell me, before we actually bring this motherfucker up here, are we charging him? Or are we having tea and crumpets and telling him he was a naughty boy, slapping him on the wrist and asking him nicely not to do it again? Because I became a cop to defend and protect, to put the sick fucks in this city in cages no matter who the hell they are or who they're related to!" He shakes his head and pulls the cuffs of his black jacket down further. "I've always had this image in my head of the kind of cop I'm aiming to be, the kind of person I would kill to become. I had the perfect idolized example, and Cap, up until a week ago, it was you."

Cragen's eyes lose their luster as he expels the breath he'd been holding. Guilt eats away at his annoyance, his pride buries itself under the weight of his callousness. "And...now?"

Elliot chuckles almost sadly but his smile's truth is revealed when he says, "Now? Shit, it's Liv." He eyes her, then, and when he looks back at Cragen he says, "Strength, integrity, passion, drive, commitment...she inspires me with every single breath she takes, in so many fucking ways. She would never let anything or anyone get in the way of what she wants or has to do. She's pure justice, no matter what or who it affects."

"Except you, right?" Cragen knows his words are harsh and he hates that he has actually said them out loud.

"Including me," Elliot whispers. "God, especially me! Cap, she'd be the first one to come for me if I ever…" he makes a grotesquely disgusted face. "She'd be so fucking angry and upset, she'd arrest me herself, then she'd kill me. It would destroy her, but she wouldn't have a choice. Anything she'd felt for me would go up in smoke if I became one of the monsters we swore to slay, she'd put my ass in a sling and wouldn't feel the least bit sorry about it." He flinches slightly at the look Cragen is giving him. "Never gonna happen. You know that."

Cragen is silent, a doubt in his eyes that he can't hide, and he knows Elliot sees it.

"Oh, please," Elliot spits. "Any laws I bend or break, there's a damn good reason, and it's all fucking forgivable. I'd never hurt anyone who doesn't fucking deserve it, and I will never fucking hurt my wife or my kids." He shakes his head and looks at Olivia again. "Let's do this. I wanna go the hell home."

She nods, trying to come off as though she hasn't heard every word he's said. She looks down at the note in her hand for the first time and she balks. "Wait a minute. You're kidding," she looks up, "This is a joke, right? It has to be."

Cragen shakes his head and looks at her dejected and defeated. "I wish it was. That's why I said...do this...carefully. He doesn't need any ammunition." He turns and walks toward his office.

Elliot yawns again, and they move in extreme synchronization. "What?" he asks once they're out in the hallway.

She swallows and hands him the purple piece of paper. "He's here with his lawyer, and it's…"

"Olsen," he reads. "Son of a bitch." He scoffs and says, "Well, we're gonna have to fight fire with fire, then."

She hits the button on the wall, and for a moment she considers taking the stairs. The elevator still hasn't earned back her trust, and she's afraid that she'll fall asleep standing up if she stays still for too long. "We can't ask Trevor to come back from The Dark Side for this," she jokes, but it's the only possibility that seems like a solution because Langan is the only lawyer she knows who's brilliant enough to outwit and outplay James Olsen.

Elliot chuckles and gives her a light and playful shove through the opening metal doors. "We make a call, request Cutter," he tells her, and when her eyes widen and narrow he knows she's intrigued by the idea. "Cragen may suddenly enjoy playing by the rules, but we never have, and I don't intend to start now. Not on this one."

She pulls out her cell phone and dials a number she's only used once before, amazed she remembers it. "We're waking him up for this," she reminds Elliot.

"Good," he nods. He grins. "Maybe it'll wake Cragen up, too"

**A/N: What happens when they finally get home? Heh. **


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

She closes the door to the oldest girl's bedroom and yawns as she turns down the hall. She smiles as she stifles another yawn coming on; to her, the girl is still eight years old, wishing on stars and believing in the Tooth Fairy. She scratches the back of her left ear as she realizes how much of her life has truly been wrapped up in Elliot and his kids in the last four years. She yawns yet again as she finally takes a step away from Maureen's door. The nights without sleeping are catching up to her now that she's home.

Home.

She thinks it and she smiles, her eyes closing as she pushes open the door to her bedroom. The one she shares with Elliot. Her husband. She scoffs as she plods toward the bed. There's so much wrong with this but so much more that is right, and she still can't fully accept any of it. As she pulls down the quilt and sheets, she yawns again, and she slips into bed with a plop and a loud, heavy sigh. She tosses the blankets over her, and then suddenly she's staring at her left hand, spinning her rings around her finger, propelling them with her thumb.

"They're real, I promise," his voice breaks into her thoughts and when she looks at him she's a lot less exhausted than she had been; her body is jolted awake by the sight of him. She stops fidgeting with her rings and stares at him, his towel-clad body, tiny droplets of water running down his thick neck and muscular shoulders. She watches him dry himself off, a smaller towel in his hands running over his body and through his hair. She swallows hard, wishing it was her mouth running over him instead of that towel, and she smiles at him. "I know," she says, but her voice is barely audible.

He grins back at her and yawns as he moves, dropping the towel just before he gets into the bed. He pulls her closer to him and settles against her, his naked body wraps around hers and he slips his hands under her tank and rests them on her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says, rolling onto her side. She feels his palms adjust, sliding around to her back, and she trails her fingers down his skin, they land on his bare ass. She smirks and squeezes and says, "Just thinking."

"Wow, I envy you," he kisses her nose. "I'm way too tired to fucking think." He chuckles and brushes her nose with his, nudges her gently, then finally kisses her. "Good things, I hope." He kisses her again, slips his hand down into her pants, and cups her ass the way she's doing to his.

She nods as she closes her eyes and nestles closer to him. She moans softly when she feels him pushing down her sweats and she shifts to help him get them off, in no mood to refuse and too tired to fight. "Us." She kicks her foot and hears the pants slide off the mattress and drop to the floor.

He softly whispers, "What about us?" and tugs at her tank top. He knows they're beyond exhausted and their bodies won't cooperate if they tried to have sex, but he needs to feel her against him. All of her. He tosses the cotton over her head and rights himself, his semi-hard cock between her legs and his ankles hooked around hers.

She exhales and sinks further into him, she can feel him stiffen and his dick twitches sending an electric shock through her body. "Just...Lizzie called me..." she bites her lip. "When I went in to say goodnight, she…"

"I heard her," he whispers, and he drags his hands up and down her back. "All of them called you 'mom,' baby. All four of them." He kisses her and sighs, and he says, "We had a nice night with them, huh?"

"They were a little confused when they got home from school and we were here," she tells him, and she drops a kiss to his chest. "But they were happy."

He laughs and says, "We got to help them with their homework, and they helped us make dinner." He kisses her lips softly. "They got to watch a movie in the den while we got to spend some time alone. Naked. We definitely had more fun than they did."

"Yeah, we did," she chuckles. Her body moves against his, his dick slips upward through her folds and they both moan again. "We read the twins a story, got to tuck them all in, it was…"

"A perfect night," he finishes for her, and he grins. "Thanks to Cutter."

"Yeah, Cutter did his job, but it almost cost you yours," she tells him. She kisses his chin. "Cragen really went in on you for going over his head, and Novak was furious. You saw the way she…"

"She was just pissy because I didn't call her," he tells her. "Notice I haven't even been talking to her unless I had to?" He smirks. "I don't have to make you jealous anymore, so I don't have to flirt with any crazy lawyers." He laughs as she rolls her eyes, and he kisses her again. He slides his feet up and down her shins, traces her spine with his fingertips, and he bends his head forward to lay against hers. "And Cragen…" he sighs. "I don't know what's up his ass. As soon as he found out something was happening with us...he started acting like a complete asshole." He closes his eyes. "This morning, the way he looked at me like he just expects me to hurt you any minute. You're the last person in the world I would ever..."

"It's not you," she says, pressing a finger to his lips, and her right hand smoothes under his neck and loops around it. "He knows that I don't exactly have the best track record, here, and he knows that you're the only family I have besides my mother...who is only sober a third of the time...he's not afraid that you're gonna hurt me, El, he's afraid that I'm gonna end this, run like I always do, lose you, have to make him switch things around at work…" she exhales and slips her leg higher on his body. "He's terrified that I'm gonna fuck this up and he knows, if that happens...fuck, I couldn't even live in the same city as you if that ever happened."

He kisses her again, deeply, and whispers, "Well, it's never gonna happen, so…" he moves in again, his left hand clutching her hip and his right hooking around her thigh. He shifts to his left and thrusts his hips, catching her moan with another kiss, and he stays exactly where he is, unmoving, as he says, "That's what he's afraid of, baby."

She drops her head and bites a small patch of skin in the crook of his neck, nodding. She knows he's right. She's not running, not from him. She finally has the one thing she's been missing with the only man who's always had the absolute power to give it to her, make her truly want it, need it. Now, she has something to lose, she has more to risk, and it means taking fewer chances at work on her own, or more with Elliot. It means she will risk her life for Elliot more than ever before, sacrifice herself for him and the kids who are now partly hers. That's what scares her, and that's exactly what she's realized is scaring Cragen.

He pulls out of her only halfway, slips in again, and that's it. He wraps both of his arms around her and tightens his hold, rolls over onto his back, and he says, "Figured it out, have you?"

"You knew," she whispers. "How the hell did you…"

"Because he's fucking known me for nine years, that's more than twice as long as he's known you," he tells her, kisses her forehead, and then he sighs. "He knows me, and, Jesus, he saw it all happen, you changed me, and he saw how...slowly but surely...I changed you. I guess he knows...this is it for us. He's been trying to keep us from falling into a routine, building an actual life together...because I think he was hoping we'd realize that with the hours we have to pull at work, it wouldn't be much of a life at all, and we'd give up before it was too late."

"I'm not giving up," she says, peering down at him, and she smirks. "My life with you...our life...it's worth everything." She kisses his chin, yawns, and says, "Even seventy-two-hour shifts at work."

He chuckles, hums an agreement, and kisses the top of her head. "I love you," he tells her.

"I love you," she returns, and she settles against him, closes her eyes, and is asleep before she takes her next breath.

Elliot drifts away then, too, and grips her tighter as if trying to pull her into his dream.

From just beyond their windows, though, a man in a Buick sighs and rubs his eyes, turns off the car's radio, and slaps the steering wheel hard. He curses under his breath and peels out of the cobblestone driveway. As he turns the wheel, he shakes his head. How the hell could they have possibly known what's running through his head? Hearing them say it out loud, and talk about their own thoughts on it, makes him worry all the more. But when he turns down the road to head onto the expressway, he flattens his smile. Maybe he's being too fatalistic, maybe he's not giving them enough credit, or maybe he's not facing the reality of his situation or the truth behind it all.

That's what he has to do, he figures out, as soon as they get to work in the morning.

He has to tell them the truth, and hope they don't hate him for it.

**A/N: Oh? What? After a crazy conversation at work, a hot encounter, and a moment with the kids. **


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Hand to God," Elliot holds up his left hand while his right covers his heart. He toys with the pocket button of his pastel yellow button down, and he eyes Ed Tucker like a mountain lion eyeing an injured bird. "Jealous?"

"For so many reasons," Tucker says flatly, still baffled by the unbelievable truth about his sex-life that Elliot has just shared with him. He checks his watch and looks around, both loving and hating the moments he gets alone with his friend before he turns into a work rival. He sighs and yanks on the cuffs of his blue suit jacket. "You hear from…"

"No," Elliot interrupts, looking away from Tucker and down at a pile of half-done paperwork on his desk. "He, uh, he wouldn't call me. We aren't exactly on the best terms, right now."

Tucker narrows his eyes. "He's like your father," he crosses his arms and shakes his head. "It's gotten the two of you in some deep shit, might I add it's shit that I had to shovel through. What the hell hap…" he pauses. "Anything to do with Liv?" He smirks because of course the only person who could ever drive a wedge between Cragen and Elliot is Olivia.

Elliot nods, scraping his teeth over his lip. "Ever since he found out we were, uh, together…" he shrugs and shoots his eyes toward the empty office in the corner. "I mean, yeah, it happened fast in his eyes, but to us it took too fucking long to get where we are." His brows sag, his lips turn down. "How can he be mad at us for this? He has to know that we've been fighting this for years, and now that we're not...we've never been happier, or stronger! Nothing's changed as far as the job goes, we work the same way we always have. I know he's worried about what might happen if…" he smiles, a hazy glaze falls over his eyes. "Not if. When. When she…"

"Oh, I know that look," Tucker chuckles. It's the same look in his eyes he'd seen when every one of his kids was conceived, with a bit more pride and a bit less terror. He presses two fingers of his left hand into the palm of his right and shifts his weight. "I can tell ya, man, when you knock her up, I am staying far, the fuck, away from this place. Her? Raging hormones? Stuck behind a desk?" He shudders and slaps his palms down onto his knees. "No thank you."

Elliot laughs, but he drops his head into one hand as it leans on his desk. "The way she's gonna glow, how much more affectionate and protective she's gonna be, the light in her eyes when…"

"Man, you're really fucking in love with her, aren't you?" Tucker spits out, having never heard Elliot drone on this way before, and knowing what it must mean. They've been friends long enough for him to have seen it all, but he's never seen this.

"God, yes," Elliot whispers, and he clears his throat and straightens himself out. Thinking about her makes his body rigid and his heart pound, two things he can't deal with while he's at work without her. He licks his lips and pulls on his honeysuckle colored tie. "Maybe we should get…"

"Back to why I'm here?" Tucker finishes, and he pulls on the bottom of his suit jacket. He rolls some kinks out of his neck and looks over his shoulder again. "Where's Benson, anyhow?" He finally asks the question that's been plaguing him since he got here.

"Following up with Warner. She went solo because I promised her I'd stay away from the lab," he eyes Tucker, who knows all about Barton and her annoying crush. "Besides I, uh, thought it would be best if we handled this without her." His left eye arcs and he tilts his head, and when Tucker nods he knows his unspoken words are clearly understood.

"You said you found this thing where?" Tucker lifts a small, black box off of Elliot's desk and into his hand, turning it around to examine it. "Is it off?"

"Now? Yeah," Elliot says with a single nod. "But it wasn't this morning. Or last night. Who the hell knows what he heard, if he listened to me and Liv…"

"Trying to make that baby you want so desperately?" Tucker smirks and drops the wire-filled box back down to Elliot's desk. "I'm sure he would respect you guys enough to, uh, change the channel, so to speak." He crosses his arms again and swallows, his throat suddenly tight. He knows this means more paperwork, an internal investigation he isn't sure he wants to run, and potentially upsetting a friend he's had for years and one he hasn't made yet. He grins at the thought; he really would like to get on Benson's good side, especially now that she's married to the man he considers family. At least, when the badge comes off. "So, um, where was it?"

"On the ledge of our bedroom window. The wire was shoved under the frame, and since it was behind the curtains, I didn't notice it until…" he smiles again, leans back in his chair, and kicks one leg up onto the other. "Liv thought she saw a spider, and she…"

"She's scared of spiders?" Tucker looks flummoxed. He could have sworn she was fearless. "Benson?"

"Hell, no," Elliot laughs, gripping his biceps a bit tighter. "Of course not! She just got out of the shower, she didn't want to go near the window in nothing but a towel. We don't know our new neighbors, yet, and that, uh, that's not the kind of first impression we wanna make." He laughs again and says, "I moved the curtain, and it...well, it wasn't a spider. She saw the end of the pin mic."

"You're sure it was planted by Cragen?" Tucker bites the inside of his cheek. If Cragen bugged their house, he had to have a damn good reason, and maybe this is all just a misunderstanding. "Why would he do that?"

Elliot shakes his head again and drags his hands down his face. "He bugged our phones before." He holds up a hand knowingly, and squints a bit. "Yeah, yeah, it was Porter, at first, but Cragen was listening to everything, too. Even after we nailed Porter, he was still…" he stops speaking and shakes his head, dismissing it disdainfully. "He's the only one with a reason, I just...I have no idea what that reason is."

"I think it's about time I tell you, then," Cragen says, standing in the archway. He steps into the squadroom, eyeing Tucker and then Elliot, knowing they're both following his movements with their inquisitive stares. "My office? Both of you?" He sweeps out an arm, nods once, and leads them into his office, which still hasn't lost the odor of smoke and paint. It's a constant reminder of how close he'd come to losing Elliot and Olivia. To losing his family.

He moves behind his desk, throws his keys down, and plops into his large, leather chair. He throws a palm out telling Ed and Elliot to sit down, and he hits his chin forward silently asking one of them to close the door.

After kicking the door shut, Elliot sits, and he leans forward. "You're not denying it?" His anger takes over, his fear for his family's safety. "You bugged our house? How the hell did you even get the window open? We have a security system that would…"

"Yeah, Morales installed it, so I asked him to do me a favor," Cragen admits freely, without any trace of wavering emotion. "You asked me why? I'm gonna tell you why." He looks at Elliot, points one finger at him, and says, "Two reasons. One, I don't trust you. This...thing between you and Olivia." He drops his finger and slaps his palm flat out on his desk. "You can't expect me to believe that you can walk away from a twelve year marriage, a woman you've been with since you were seventeen, and dive into something you know she can't fucking handle! This is gonna blow up in your…"

"Try again," Elliot says coolly, his voice mellow despite the building rage. He knows Tucker is staring at him, waiting for the explosion that surprisingly isn't coming. "Kathy walked away before I did, and we both knew it was over. I didn't dive into something Liv can't handle, we both treaded a lot of fucking deep water to get where we are! I love her...have loved her...for so long, we love each other so much more and so differently than it ever was with anyone else. You know that, and that's what this is about."

Cragen flinches, but he puts up a stiff facade. "She doesn't do commitment, you're on the rebound…"

"We have been fully fucking committed to each other for a year, Cap. Almost a year. Longer than that if you count...before…" he scratches the back of his neck. "And I'm not rebounding. Shit, getting the hell away from Kathy was like shooting a full court, three-pointer! I didn't even hit the rim!" He lowers his gaze and his voice. "Captain Cragen, I was planning on leaving Kathy...before I found out she slept with an entire city block, okay? For Liv. I've been in love with Olivia…"

Cragen relents, holding up a hand. "Yeah, I...I know," he whispers. He blinks once. "My second reason…" he inhales and he drums his fingers along the surface of his desk. He shoots a hard look toward Tucker, knowing what he's about to say will open a new can of worms and he isn't ready to handle the fallout. "There are people who need to know what happened in Syracuse. People who've been demanding to be read in on it, get the unredacted files, and…"

"People," Elliot scoffs. He smooths his hands over his shirt as he leans back again. "You mean you? You can't handle that we did something without you, can you? That we took orders from…"

"No! I can't handle that the two of you are in danger and I can't help because I don't know the details of who the fuck is after you!" Cragen yells, then. He throws his hands up in the air and shouts, "Let's not get into the fact that you went upstate happily married and came back too wrapped up in your partner to care that your wife was cheating on you!"

"Happily…" Elliot fumes, unable to process what Cragen is saying. "If we were happy, she wouldn't have cheated on me, and I wouldn't have fallen…" he rubs his forehead. "So you bugged our house because you think, what, we lay in bed and just rehash old cases? You honestly thought we'd still be talking about…"

"The case that changed your lives," Cragen says with a firm nod. "I thought it would come up a couple times, yes." He closes his eyes and his entire body seems to concede. "I know...you were right, last night. I saw this happening, and I thought that if I at least kept you both on a tight enough leash, I could keep you from doing something that could jeopardize your careers. When you took off...something happened in those two weeks, you came back...closer. More in love than two people who are just partners should be."

Elliot smirks, nods. "Yeah, that's why we got married." He exhales and gives a complacently arrogant shrug. "We were never just partners. Those two weeks alone...made us realize what we really had, what we were avoiding...and what we were missing." He drops his feet to the floor and says. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to her."

Cragen cringes and says, "I know that. The two of you always do a damn good job of protecting each other. That's...what's what started this. That's why I went this far with this entire situation." He looks at Tucker, then at Elliot. "Upstate. Calderone...I need to know who took the shot. Which one of you, and why. I got people breathing down my neck about this, higher ups that need proof you did everything by the book, and the fact that no one fucking knows...the way he was killed, according to the few files we do have, it wasn't purely self defense. The fact that neither of you are talking...it makes you both look guilty."

Elliot snaps his head toward Tucker, his eyes wide, and he looks back at Cragen. "Wait, wait," he laughs almost bitterly. "You've been eavesdropping and spying on us...because you think we're covering up a murder?" He blinks and licks his lips. "First you think I have ulterior motives for being with Olivia, then you think I...how the fuck could you think I would ever hurt her?" His eyes fall and he seems to sadden. "And now you think we killed the son of a bitch in cold blood and are lying for each other?"

Cragen's silence is all the answer he gives.

Elliot scrapes his teeth over his lips and stands, and he looks down at Cragen. "One, I'm never gonna hurt her. You know that. Two, I'm not gonna tell you anything about that case, I can't. Except this," he blinks. "Calderone...figured us out. I don't know how, but he did. He cornered us, he was gonna kill her, make me watch. Then he was gonna shoot me. We did what we had to do to keep each other safe, alive, and when it came down to it...we both shot him."

Tucker tries to stop him before he breaks protocol and his NDA. "Elliot, you don't have to say…"

Elliot holds up a hand. "I can say this, Eddie," he affirms. Then he looks back toward Cragen. "I couldn't tell you if it was her bullet or mine, we don't even really know, but the reason it looks like overkill? The reason your little henchmen think it wasn't purely self defense...is because we both shot him right between the eyes. Man, if we didn't, he would have shot one of us, and we weren't going to let that happen." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the black box, and he slams it down on the captain's desk. "I thought...for a long time, you were the only person I trusted. Then Liv came along and I had two people I could count on." He smirks but it's not happy. It's a realization. "Now, I guess I'm back to one. I know we have to work together, but after hours...stay the hell away from us."

Cragen watches Elliot leave, flinches as the door slams, and he looks at Tucker with a hint of regret in his eyes. There's still so much he has to tell Elliot, and now he might not get the chance.

**A/N: After that crazy conversation at work, a hot encounter, and a moment with the kids. **


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"You look like hell," Elliot straightens up a bit, tossing a file onto his desk. "What happened?" His eyes follow her as she moves to the back table, her hands immediately reach for an industrial coffee pot carafe. He stands, then, walking fast, because he knows she would only willingly drink the department's sludge in the absence of hard liquor. "Okay, baby, what the hell happened?"

She laughs bitterly as she downs half of her freshly poured coffee with closed eyes. She grimaces as she swallows, shakes her head, and says, "Attorney-client privilege is a bitch."

From behind them, Fin tosses his jacket over the back of his chair, drops into the seat, and spits out a curse. "The son of a bitch told his brother that he told the whole damn story to his lawyer…"

"Who can't say anything, even though he's in a coma," Olivia interrupts, throwing back the rest of the coffee. She moves to pour another cup.

"Hey, hey," Elliot grabs her hands and whispers, "One cup a day, we agreed...just in case," he raises one eyebrow and gives her a small smile, one he knows drives her crazy. He takes the cup out of her relaxed hands and says, "What did Warner give you?"

"A headache," she breathes, folding her arms. "We still don't have anything but his DNA, which under the circumstances isn't gonna do much good." She bites her lip and shifts her weight onto her left side. "Of course, he gets into a car accident as soon as we get the green light to nail his ass."

"Wasn't an accident," Munch's dry voice interjects as he hangs up his desk phone. "Just got off the line with Traffic and Transpo, they reviewed tapes and it seems McNultey was hit by a car going the wrong way down a one-way street, a car that not only accelerated but swerved to deliberately hit him. Got the driver in holding down at the Two-Nine, guess who it is."

Fin, Olivia, and Elliot simply stare at him, clearly unwilling to play guessing games.

Munch angles his head slightly and says, "Tara Hunter's father."

Elliot and Olivia share a look, her left eyebrow shoots up and the right corners of her lips crook. "Guess we're taking a ride to the Twenty-Ninth," she says, slapping him in the chest.

He winks and nods, turns to grab his coat, and as he pulls it on, he says, "We're having dinner with Ed on Sunday. He, uh…"

"We are like hell," she retorts, not even letting him finish his sentence.

He rolls his eyes as he waves to Munch and Fin, and once they're out in the hallway he says, "He wants to prove that he isn't a complete dick, give him the chance to be nice to you, would ya?"

"I married you," she says when her palm hits the elevator button, "And you still haven't proven you're not a complete dick, so what does that say about how I feel…"

"Liv," he warns, hiding his amusement. He leads her into the elevator and says, "He's done us a couple favors already. What he does on the job and who he is off the clock are two totally…"

"Exactly!" She shoves her hands into her pockets and shoots a hard gaze toward the metal doors as they close. "He's done nothing but string us up like a couple of piñatas, berating you and threatening us, ready to yank away our badges and gloating every time our asses end up in a sling...instantly he thinks it's always our fault…"

"Because it usually is," he shrugs, and he hooks two fingers through her loose belt loop. He pulls her a bit closer, his eyes travel over her body once, and he smirks at the way her sweater is the same deep yellow as his tie, perfectly complimenting his shirt. "He never did anything that…" he sees the look on her face, the way her dark eyes seem almost black and the way her nostrils flare like an angry bull's. "Okay, uh, maybe he overreacted once or twice," he relents, and he moves closer to her, feeling a bit hurt when she backs up.

"We're at work," she reminds him, brushing her hair behind her ear. "And I'm too annoyed to kiss you, right now."

"Are not," he teases, and when the doors open he gives her a playful shove. He chuckles as she rolls her eyes again, and he knows that his immature mischievousness is one of the things she loves about him. At least, he hopes it is. He pulls on his tie as they walk toward the glass doors, and he takes a deep breath before speaking again. "So, I, uh, talked to Cragen while you were out."

"Figured you would," she says without looking at him. She pushes through the doors and the slightly warmer city air hits her face. She closes her eyes and takes the breeze for what it is, a relaxing moment before all hell breaks loose. She inhales again and moves a bit faster, feeling him keeping his stride right beside her. It makes her smile, and she realizes that's how it's always been, and always will be. They will always be at each other's side. "What…" she finally turns to look at him. "What did he say?"

He notices the way she bites her lip. He knows it means she doesn't really want the answer but she'll be aggravated and anxious if she doesn't get it. "Long story short," he licks his lips and digs around in his pockets for the car keys. When he finds them, he holds them in his hand for a moment, feeling the sharp, shiny house key and tracing the unworn edges with his index finger. He smiles, then, and looks at her. His face falls when he thinks of what he has to say to her. "He thought we were hiding something about Calderone…" he half-shrugs and moves with her closer to the Ford. "Thought, ya know, instead of just asking us he would keep us under his surveillance in case we decided to confess to murder in our sleep."

She squints and her head angles in a way that usually means she's about to hit something. Or someone. "Are you serious?" She stops him before he can open the driver's side door, both of her hands cup over one of his much larger, rougher ones. "That's what he said?"

He closes his eyes and nods, but then he dives into her concerned gaze and says, "That...and the fact he doesn't trust me with you." He makes a face at her, one he hopes hides his tremendous disappointment and hurt but he knows she reads him like her favorite book. "Told me he thinks there's no way I can love you as much as I do, and he thinks you're not the marrying type."

"I'm not," she admits, and her hands work his fingers apart. She traces the lines in his palm with the pad of her ring finger. "I wasn't," she corrects, and she lets herself give him the barest hint of a smile. "Until you." She presses her lips together for a moment. "If he was listening to us, he knows that. He's heard us say a lot of things…" she shakes her head and leans forward slightly, her fingers still drawing invisible portraits on his skin, and she kisses his chin.

The act makes his heart stop. There's something in the soft tenderness of her kiss that shifts the axis of his entire universe and he blinks once as he swallows hard. He darts his eyes around the parking lot, and seeing no one of any importance, he ushers her into the backseat of the car. He slips in beside her and makes sure the door closes before he works off his coat and suit jacket. He grins at her as he crawls forward over her, pushing her down into the seat.

The leather is somewhere between brown and red; it smells like coffee and a hot mix of his cologne and her perfume, and as he takes a deep breath he realizes how perfectly the combination of scents blends. He dips his head and once his forehead touches hers, he whispers, "I love you."

She can't speak, though she moans and nods, and her hips rise when his fingers find her wet heat beneath her clothes. Briefly, she ponders when and how he discovered his talent of working his hand into her pants without so much as unbuttoning them, but it's a short-lived question that dies on another cry of his name.

He pushes another finger into her and kisses her softly. As though they're taking over the controls, his lips pry hers apart and his tongue thrusts forward. So much more passionate than he'd intended, but neither of them complains. He feels her trying to tug at his belt, but he shakes his head. "Not enough time," he breathes, and then he chuckles. "Not enough extra pants," he jokes, his way of telling her that he's beyond worked up. He has been for a while, and if he gets to the point where he blows a gasket, the mess would merit an entirely new suit.

She slides her hands upward and clutches the sides of his face, her body rocking with his, her breath quickening and her heart racing. Her voice wavers in pitch and volume, high and soft, loud and low, as he brings her closer to the edge. "Elliot," she says, a warning.

"I know," he whispers against her lips, "That's the idea," he chuckles. He kisses her again and grunts once, twisting his wrist and squeezing his thumb into place against her clit. He rubs her fast, catching her whimpers in his mouth. He shivers as he feels her body tighten, he can feel her convulsions around his fingers, and for a blissful moment he knows he's in heaven. "Baby," he whispers, "Let go."

She obeys, because she lost the ability to deny him anything a long time ago, and her back arches. She screams and grips his head tightly, shaking against him as her orgasm rips and rolls through her. It takes longer than usual for the tension and pleasure to begin to subside; breathlessly she rolls her hips in waves as he slowly thrusts and twists, prolonging it and letting her ride it out as long as it takes. "God," she huffs, "Jesus."

He smirks and kisses her, and he pulls his hand free. He keeps his eyes on her as he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks every overworked finger slowly, completely. With rolling eyes and a low-toned satisfied moan, he rises to his knees and ducks his head, climbing over the console to settle himself behind the wheel. Looking at her in the rear view mirror, he grins salaciously. She can't move quite yet, she has one hand splayed over her stomach as the other is flopped limply at her side hanging off the seat. "I love you," he tells her again, and instantly his eyes change. They darken, his pupils dilate, he knits together his brows. "If anyone ever fucking doubts that again…"

"I love you, too," she breathes, finally sitting up. She rises to her knees first, then works her way up front, and once she sits in the passenger seat and latches her seatbelt, she says, "We don't need to prove that to anyone." She grins. "Except maybe Barton." She pauses. "And Novak." Her head lolls to the side. "And Kathy." She huffs once. "Christ, you could have the most amazing…"

"I have the most amazing sex-life," he cuts her off as he starts the car, knowing where her rant was heading. "With my amazing wife. The most incredible woman...most perfect partner in the world." He reaches toward her and brushes a hand over her cheek. He blows her a kiss and then resigns himself to the task of driving carefully and heading back into the fray of the job.

She senses the shift in him, it prompts the same transition in her, and it makes her aware of how easily and quickly they can compartmentalize, how effortlessly they put their personal life aside for the ability to do their jobs. "Cragen's fucking insane," she laughs, now knowing the man has nothing to worry about when it comes to them.

Elliot hears her and he laughs, but a twinge of a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him that at least one of Cragen's fears is about to be realized, and he smiles.

He can't fucking wait.

**A/N: Next, a moment with the kids. A new case leads to a hard conversation...with Kathy. And what is Cragen hiding? **


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

They're halfway through dinner when she stops eating. She doesn't even realize she's staring at him, but she can't stop herself from doing it. Her fork scrapes along the bottom of her plate, pushing steamed broccoli around, and she smiles slightly. She remembers when broccoli came out of a sauce-filled carton. There had been a time when all of her meals were delivered and she ate them alone on a lumpy couch.

She tilts her head and blinks once, her focus set on the way his jaw moves as he chews, and she notices how much more relaxed he is. She can recall days where it seemed like chewing his food was somehow tightening screws in his chin, he was always so tense. She inhales when his head turns and he grins at her as he licks his lips.

"I can feel it, ya know," he whispers as he leans over to her, and he blindly stabs his fork into a piece of roasted potato. "When you're staring at me. It's like my whole body's on fire," he tells her. He kisses her forehead and asks, "What's the issue?"

She has to smile at that, again, because it proves how in tune with each other they are, how intimately they truly know each other. "I was just…" she bites her lip. "A year ago, everything was so...different." She turns slightly, her eyes falling over every kid at the table; she laughs at how Dickie furtively drops his broccoli onto his sister's plate, how Kathleen and Maureen trade potatoes until one has all square pieces and the other has nothing but triangles, how Lizzie spends time cutting up all of her chicken before she eats. She sighs and her smile warms. "We...we were so...different."

He exhales and kisses her cheek, brushes her hair back with his large hand, and he whispers, "Nothing changes except what has to." He cups her chin, then, and turns her head. He looks into her eyes and tells her, "We had to. All of us. This...us, the kids, this house...we're happier than I think we ever thought we'd be, and it's only getting better."

"Every day," she says with a gentle nod, and she willingly returns his deeper kiss. The giggling and murmurs of playful disgust from the kids register, but she ignores it as she smirks against his lips, lets her fork clang to her plate, and loops her hands around his neck.

"Dad," Dickie speaks with a mouthful of half-chewed chicken as he rolls his eyes. "Come on, Mom, we're eating!"

Elliot laughs as he pulls back, winks at his wife, and turns to his son. Whatever had been running through Olivia's head is now turning the gears in his. He remembers when dinner was spent in silence, he used to brood and seethe while his kids attempted but failed to talk to Kathy. He remembers when he was too exhausted and complacent to enjoy the time spent with them, but now being around the table with his family fuels him to no end. He loves and lives for these moments of joy and peace between the hard cases at work. "You ready for Saturday, kiddo?" He finally eats the potato that's been hanging on the end of his fork.

Dickie smiles and nods excitedly, chomping on his buttered roll. He holds up a finger as he finishes chewing and swallows. "You're gonna be there, right? Both of you?" He looks hopeful as he glances at Olivia.

She smiles and nods. "We wouldn't miss it, sweetie," she says, and she picks up her fork and jabs it into a piece of broccoli. Since when is she a soccer mom? Since when does she set aside personal days off of work to go to first practices and first games and championships and playoffs? Since when does she create lists of healthy snacks and set reminders on her phone to buy bottled water and since when does she Google things that could get her kicked out of a game?

Another smile crosses her lips and she pops the broccoli into her mouth. Since now. Since her life became a dream and dreams of life a year ago became nightmares.

The conversation turns from Dickie's first day of soccer to Kathleen's science project and Maureen's gymnastics meet, and the laughter that fills the room also fills Elliot's heart. When his phone rings, he frowns. "Of course," he spits out as he swallows his last bite of chicken. He shuffles around in his pocket and answers the call as his kids start to rise and clear the table. "Stabler," he says, and he drags a hand down the front of his Rolling Stones tee shirt.

Olivia watches as he gets up and walks away, talking on the phone on his way into their bedroom. She sighs as she stands, assuming she has to follow, assuming they have to change back into stuffy suits and head off to work. "Thanks, guys," she says, almost dejectedly, offering the kids a half-smile as they wipe down the table.

"No problem, Mommy," Lizzie says brightly, and she has no idea how happy it makes Olivia, what sorts of feelings a simple sentence stirs in her. "Do you and Daddy have to go to work, now?" She pushes her glasses up on her nose and sniffles once.

Olivia's heart hurts as she bites her lip. "I don't know, sweet pea," she almost whispers, and she slips a hand through Maureen's long hair before she turns and heads into the bedroom. She doesn't knock, she knows she doesn't have to, and she starts to ask him what they're walking into, but the look on his face makes her stop.

It's an expression she's never seen before, not in person. It's what she's always imagined he looked like when his father died, or when one of his Marine buddies lost the battle raging on long after they came home. His eyes are dark but vacant, his chin is jutted out slightly farther than usual, it's clear his jaw is clenched by the way the veins in his neck throb. His complexion matches the walls, a shade of pale green that had to be customized for them when he bought the house. He'd used a photo of their op house in Syracuse, demanding that the man nail the color exactly.

"What happened?" Her voice is barely above a whisper and her hands fly on their own toward his shoulders. She squeezes and rolls the heels of her hands into his body as she searches his eyes for some sign of life. She feels him lean into her, sees his eyes roll slightly, and she hears him give an affirmative groan into the phone. She moves again, rubbing her way down his back. "Baby, what's wrong?" she whispers a bit louder, and she prays he tells her because she refuses to let this be the start of ending up like Kathy.

He shakes his head, cups the end of his phone, and looks at her. Instantly, the color returns to his cheeks and the tension in his jaw slacks. She calms him, so effortlessly. He leans over and kisses her forehead, his eyes close, and he says, "It's Cragen."

"I thought it was, but obviously this isn't about work. What's he saying?" Her fingers lace with his. "You looked...for a second there, you looked...sick."

He nods and he gives Cragen another noncommittal grunt before covering the speakers again. "He just…" something Cragen says pulls his attention again, and he turns away from Olivia. "I know I can't, I wouldn't anyway. No, Cap, you know I'm not going over there right now! My wife and kids are...Olivia! Who the hell did you think...I shouldn't be the one talking to her! Send Fin! It's his case! What do you mean, it would be a lot better coming from me? The only time I talk to her is when the kids...no, not since the divorce...and when we used her to bag Porter...I owe it to her? Are you out of your mind?"

"Kathy," Olivia's voice breaks breathlessly. "Oh, God, what…" she sees Elliot's hand shoot up, palm out, and she takes a breath. She watches in worried panic as Elliot hangs up the phone and rubs his hand over his forehead. In her eyes, he's moving in slow motion; she can see the static sparks shoot up from his socked feet as he moves against the carpet. "Hey, what..." she stops when he glares at her. No. Not at her. Beyond her. Over her head.

His left fist balls up tightly and his chest rises and falls, he's readying himself to punch something and he's trying desperately to calm down before he does it because it's a brand new fucking house and they can't afford to repair anything right now. "Fuck," he hisses, and he aims a hard uppercut at absolutely nothing, his fist flying aimlessly through the air.

She runs to him, and the moment her hands hit his hot skin his body surrenders to her. She catches him as he jerks forward and she lets him hold her in silence for a while. When they start swaying, she's sure he's calm, and she pushes him back slightly. "What happened to Kathy?" She's not surprised at how worried she is, but she can tell by the look in Elliot's eyes that's he's a bit stunned by it.

He kisses her softly, her compassion driving him to her at the moment. "Nothing," he says, and he inhales once. He grabs her hand and walks her to the bedroom door. "Not...it's not her. It's her brother. Fin and Munch...they got a call, anonymous tip pointing the finger at Kevin for two of our open cases. Since we weren't there, they ran with it. They checked him out, he didn't have an alibi, his fingerprints were at both girls' apartments and they fucking...arrested him." He scraped his nails down the back of his neck and dropped his head to hers. "How the hell do you do this?"

"Same way you do," she shrugs. She lets one hand dangle limply over his shoulder while the other smooths out her purple cotton tee. "Training, separating the personal from the…"

He laughs and kisses her lips. "Not the job, baby," he runs his lips lightly over hers. "How do you calm me down the way you do? The way you always have?" He can tell by the question mark now etched into her face that she doesn't know at all. "It used to be just at work...a heated interrogation, the moment before I went too far, I'd look at you and all of a sudden I wasn't as angry. I realized something. Whenever I got out of control, times when I lost it completely...we were apart for some reason, you weren't right there with me." He kisses her again and his fingers dance down to her hips. He hooks his thumbs over the elastic waist of her leggings and he pulls her closer to him. "And before that...a little over four years ago…" he pauses to wink at her and slips his left hand between her pants and her skin, palming over her ass. "No one could get me to calm down at all, and there were a lot more…" he chuckles. "Um, incidents of excessive force...violent outbursts, coercion, I was on probation three times, and since you...not once."

She smiles at him and then jerks a bit with a small yelp when the cold metal of his ring touches her skin. She laughs as he pulls her closer, tighter. "Well, like you always say...I have a calming presence. Guess it's not just with victims." She tilts her head and drags her fingernails down the front of his chest. "It's because I love you, you idiot," she teases, and one hand trails up to the back of his head.

"I love you," he says and he kisses her again. "I remember," he squints, "Cragen had it with me, I was just coming off of a suspension and slammed some pissant's head into the table when he refused to answer a question." He licks his lips and his head waves back and forth. "I was so lost, back then, Liv. I was so close...to losing everything…" he blinks once. "Then you came along and you...God, you saved my life." He kisses her once again, this time it's deeper, his other hand works into her pants and grips her ass hard enough to lift her up, and he lets out a muffled laugh when she wraps her legs around his waist.

She leans back when she needs to breathe, keeping her head pressed to his, and as she's panting, she asks, "Why did he call you?"

He narrows his eyes. His chest rises and falls quickly, hitting into and against hers. "Because Kathy's brother was just…"

"He knows you can't work the case," she speaks, "And if it was just a courtesy call, he wouldn't have called you. Kathy's your ex-wife, you wouldn't have even been on the log for this, and Fin would've just called Kathy or her parents."

There's a moment of silent frustration, his entire body twitches and it makes them both seethe because his hardened dick rubs against her pressing heat. She's right, he realizes, and then he spits out a vulgar cuss that he's glad his kids can't hear. He drops Olivia lightly to the ground and scrapes his hands down his face. "He's never gonna fucking stop playing with us." He huffs and puts his hands on his hips. "What, he thought I'd leave you here alone and fucking take the kids and run to Kathy?" He narrows his eyes and scoffs. "That's exactly what he was trying to get me to do."

"I heard," she says to him. "And I heard you tell him you had no intention of doing it." She kisses him, runs her thumbs under his eyes, and she says, "I'll call Fin and get an update on this, and then I will go talk to Kathy. You stay with the kids, watch one of those stupid talking dog movies they love so much." She kisses him again, then moves to leave the room, but something he says makes her stop and turn and smile. "I love you, too," she says, and she heads out.

He follows her, watches her kiss each kid on the forehead, and then she puts her coat on, grabs her phone and keys, and leaves the house.

"Where's Mom going?" Dickie asks, his little eyes blinking up at his father. "Is she going to work without you?" There's a worry in his innocent features.

"No, of course not, buddy. She'll be back in a little while," he says, and he drops onto the couch fitting in the space between the twins. He pulls the remote out of Lizzie's hand, earning an offended gasp, and he laughs as he flips the stations until it lands on a familiar channel. He hears all four of his kids cheer and clap, and he braces himself as they clamor to sit on his lap. He grunts and chuckles, wondering how four kids expect to sit on two knees, but once they're settled, he sighs and smiles.

Nothing anyone could ever do would make him run out on his family, destroy the life he fought so hard to build for himself, his kids, and Olivia. He bites the inside of his cheek, ignoring the talking dog on the TV, as he loses himself in thought. Slowly, he smirks, and he kisses the side of his son's head.

He gives a content sigh when Dickie drops back into him, and he whispers, "You're gonna be such a great big brother." It goes unheard by the boy, but as he sits back against the couch, he knows it's the absolute truth. He just doesn't know how soon he'll find it out first-hand.

**A/N: What happened with Kathy's brother? What is Cragen trying to pull?**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek while he stares at the back of his partner's head. He swivels back and forth slightly in his desk chair, his thoughts racing and stacking and crumbling like a brick wall with no mortar. He's promised, sworn to her and himself, that he would never let anything eat away at him, not the way it did when he was married to Kathy. It's harder than it seems, especially now, when it comes to a person in his family. A person he let hang around his kids, a person who was part of his life for more than half of it. "Hey," he calls, and when her head snaps around, he tries to smile.

The expression on his face looks painful, and she sits and leans over to him. "What's wrong?" She eyes Cragen's office door for a moment, then bites her lip. "I can't talk to you about…"

"What did he do?" He runs a hand down his face, knowing he shouldn't be asking. Not here. Not now. "Come on, you can't…" he huffs and scoots closer to her. "He was my brother-in-law for a fucking decade, he used to change my kids' diapers, bathe them...I need to know if…"

She holds up a hand as her stomach clenches and flips, and she knows he can see her turn green before him. "God, I don't want to think about that, okay?" She exhales and makes sure her next words come out in a soft whisper. "Everyone involved is over eighteen, way over," she claws at her hair and squeezes her shoulder blades together. "His prints tied him to two open cases, but his DNA...ties him to six." She bites her lip and tries to look him in the eyes. "Kathy had no idea, she's upset and angry and she...God, she asked if you had any idea, if you could tell. I told her there's no way you could have or would have known."

"No, I didn't, I...I thought, yeah, he was a bit handsy with the girls at the bar, but nothing that sent up any red flags." He rounds both of his hands over his face and grunts once. "Maybe because he knew how to act around me, he knew what kind of cop I was, he knew I'd have no problem arresting his ass if it came down to it." He shakes his head and he looks over his shoulder for a moment. "And Cragen, man, first he wants me to handle everything and fucking be Kathy's great protector, the next minute he says I can't have anything to do with the case...or cases," he makes a grotesque face as he sarts his eyes to the stack of manilla folders on Fin's desk. It sickens him to know that in the pages there are accounts and descriptions of every brutally violent and despicable act his ex-brother-in-law committed. "Her parents are upper-class, religious, incredible moral and the least violent people I know," he says, and he turns to look at Olivia again. "Well, I mean, except the one time her father tried to kill me, but he just found out I got his little girl pregnant so it was justified."

Her eyes narrow more and she shakes her head as though she's not sure why he's telling her this.

"They were never overbearing or abusive, they don't have vices or addictions, unless it's suddenly criminal to be a compulsive knitter," he chuckles, "Every birthday, every holiday, we all get new hats, gloves, and scarves or blankets. I got a sweater once, but one sleeve was shorter than the other, so she…"

"Elliot," she interrupts, a small voice in the back of her mind begins to chant _he misses his life with Kathy and her parents. _She closes her eyes and shakes it away. When she opens them again, she sees his expression has changed. "What?"

"I'm trying to tell you...he came from the quintessential Norman Rockwell family and turned out to be a fucking psychopathic monster." He smiles at her in a way he never has before, in a way that means something powerful. "He's nothing like them, they were the perfect fucking parents, he had the perfect fucking childhood…" he licks his lips. "Baby, you are nothing like your mother, and you are nothing like that...man." He can't bring himself to call him her father. "It's not genetic, and it's clearly not dependent on upbringing, it's...choices."

Her breath hitches and something behind her eyes burns. She wonders how she ever survived in the days before she had someone in her life who believed in her more than she did herself. She doesn't understand how it could have been considered living before she made home-cooked meals for six, before she claimed a spouse and four kids on her insurance, before there was a mortgage with her name on it instead of a lease agreement. Looking at him now, she sees it all in his eyes, and she fully comprehends that it wasn't really living at all. It was existing. Barely. "Choices," she repeats in a bare whisper. She watches him nod and she understands. Their choices, the choice to let themselves go in Syracuse, the decision to let him kiss her while she was wearing his Bon Jovi tee shirt, the conscious move to dive into a marriage, a family, before even going on a date. Their choices have led them here, and though they're happier than they've ever been and more stable than the average couple is, they're starting to realize the full weight of what it's costing them. "We all make choices...some of them are just...mistakes." She bites down hard on the insides of her pressed together lips.

He raises and lowers one shoulder and he drops his gaze to his desk blotter. "We haven't made any mistakes, baby. Not when it comes to each other. I'm fucking sure of that. The choices I make, fuck, I make them with you and the kids in mind, always. It's how I know...I won't end up like my father. I won't make the choices he made. Ever."

"I know you won't," she whispers to him, and she's never wanted to throw her arms around him more than she does at this moment. She holds her breath until the urge to cry subsides, and she exhales slowly. "We, uh, we should get to work on this…" she holds up the first file she grabs, but has no idea what case it is. She tosses it to him in an attempt to refocus her energy on work before she gives Cragen more of a reason to treat them like pawns in a fatal game of chess.

He opens the folder, reads half of the first page, and closes it. "We closed this one," he says, "But, yeah, we were getting too, uh, personal there for a minute." He drags one hand down the back of his neck. "Did Warner ever call you with the results from...uh, the girl in the dumpster…" he hates that he has to say things like that on a daily basis, but he knows that he's only in trouble if he ever stops hating it.

"No," she replies, "Oh, but, uh, Barton called, looking for you," she smirks and wags her eyebrows. As she leans back in her seat, she picks up a paperclip, bends it into the shape of a heart, and flings it at him. "She wants to know if you like whipped cream."

"Only if I'm licking it off of you," he returns with a chuckle, picking up the twisted clip. He looks at it for a moment, then smiles as he slips it into his pocket. He takes a deep breath, looks up at her, and says, "I love you."

"Right back at ya," she says, suddenly straightening up and opening another file. Thankfully, it's one that belongs to a current case, and she shoots Elliot a look before she busies herself with fact-checking the statements as Cragen walks over to their paired-off desks.

"Elliot," Cragen says, sounding concerned as he looks down at him, "How's Kathy? The kids?"

Elliot squints but he answers the man. "Kathy's upset, but not devastated. Our kids…" he looks at Olivia. "Our kids are fine, none of this really affects them at all." He glances back up at Cragen. "They haven't even seen Kevin in a couple of years."

"Upset?" Cragen folds his arms. "If you need to leave, to be there for her, it's fine, we can…"

"Why would I need to leave?" Elliot scoffs and raises one brow almost to a pure point. "I'm pretty sure she's at work, or if not, uh, her boyfriend can take care of her." He chuckles. "One of her boyfriends, anyway." He rubs the side of his face where his stubble is poking through, waiting for Cragen's next move.

Cragen looks honestly surprised, both hands fly to his hip. "What? She has a boyfriend? Are you just gonna let…"

"I am gonna do my job, with my partner," he lowers his eyes menacingly and sneers, "Who also happens to be my wife." He nods once. "My ex-wife and her flavor of the week are doing whatever they're doing, and I have no intention of dropping in to see what exactly that is! So unless you got something for us, we have to…"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Cragen sighs, giving in, and he says, "Complaining vic at the Two-Seven, gave them a description, matches Garrison." He twists his lips and sheepishly looks at Olivia before he backs away and retreats into his office. "Go," he spits before he's completely inside of it.

"He just...doesn't want to accept this," Elliot slaps his open palm on the hard surface of his desk, and then he turns to Olivia. "But I know what we have to do...what will get him to back the fuck off and keep his fucking nose out of our business."

She sees the look in his eyes, what the glimmer means is obvious. It's the reason he's making her take vitamins and eat fruit, why he limits her coffee intake and why he's ordered pants with elastic waistbands off of some obscure website with _Mommyhood_ in its name. "You...el, be honest with me," she takes a long blink. "Are you absolutely positive that's what you…"

"More than anything. Right now," he instantly makes a face and blows air through his lips, making them bubble. He says, "Well, no, not right now, like this very moment, I think Fin and Munch might not wanna watch that, but we've been trying, and if we…"

"I'm late," she interrupts. It's something she's been avoiding telling him just in case he did decide to give Cragen what he wants, and she exhales. "I was gonna tell you tonight, I thought...it could just be stress, this bullshit with Cragen and Kathy's brother, but maybe it could be…"

"Benson, Stabler," Cragen shouts from his office through the cracked open door. "Didn't I give you an order?"

Elliot glares at the oak wood as if trying to blow it up with his mind, but he stops abruptly. His stomach flips and flops and he shudders at the thought of something in the squadroom blowing up. "Come on," he says, rising. When he takes Olivia's arm to lead her out of the room, he smirks and starts to whistle. The words he'd said to his son the night before ring in his ears. "Yeah," he laughs, "Dickie'll be an amazing big brother."

"What?" She stops in front of the stairwell entrance, raises an eyebrow, and gives him a questioning smile.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, and he pushes the door open, praying their night goes by quickly. There's something he and Olivia need to do, and they can't do it soon enough.

**A/N: Next, we finally get to the bottom of what's going on with Cragen. **


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"For the love of God," Elliot shifts in his seat and rubs his red eyes. "Please, tell us why the hell you dragged us down here at two in the fucking morning."

Tucker sighs and folds his arms, his wrinkled suit puckers as he leans against the conference room table. "I wanted to clear this up before it became something... I couldn't get you out of," he says, and he coughs into a fisted hand.

"What are you talking about?" Elliot raises an eyebrow and loops his arms around Olivia, pulling her into his lap and laying his palms over her stomach. He can't help smiling, though it's not the right time for it.

Tucker notices and squints at them. "Elliot, your fingerprints were found at the scene of...a pretty brutal murder in the East Village, tonight." He holds up a hand before Elliot can speak. "I stepped in because Homicide outta the Ninth was gonna slap cuffs on you and drag you into the hole."

"Well, thanks, because I wasn't fucking anywhere but here and home," Elliot's nostrils flare and his hands grip Olivia's stomach.

Another man, behind Elliot, clears his throat and steps forward. "All night? You left work at ten, you were home with your wife from then on? No where else at all?"

Olivia turns sharply. "No," she barks. "We stopped at the pharmacy, then went home. When he made me take seven pregnancy tests, we had to wait half an hour to get results. We got them, and we haven't left the house since! Not until Tucker showed up and dragged us down here!"

"Pregnancy tests," Tucker says, suddenly sitting up straight. "What, uh, what, um…"

"Yeah," Elliot nods and smiles, and tears spring to his eyes for the third time that night. "We're having a baby, Ed."

Tucker's mouth opens but before he says a word, the other man slams a hand down on the table. "You two lie for each other all the time," he says. "Can you prove that you were home at midnight?"

Olivia rolls her eyes and pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, scoffs as she scrolls through her photo album, and clicks on a video. "He recorded the entire thing," she says, and she throws the phone down onto the table.

The time stamp is a clear and firm 11:57. The video plays, the screen is panning over a line of plastic pregnancy tests as Elliot's voice is loudly realizing that each and every one is positive. Olivia can be heard telling him to stop filming the damn things, and he laughs and says he's "preserving the happiest moment of his life," and then there's five full minutes of laughing, crying, screaming, excited laughter from the other kids, and then a blurry moment before it focuses on Elliot and Olivia kissing.

Dickie's voice rings as the video shakes. "My parents, people! Kissy, kissy! I'm a big brother!"

Elliot's hand moves as he laughs against Olivia's lips and he grabs the phone from his son just before the video freezes and ends. The time stamp at its final moment is 12:29.

"Satisfied?" Olivia practically growls, though she's leaning back into Elliot even more and her heart thuds in response to reliving the moment she found out she was having his baby.

Tucker smiles at them, picks up Olivia's phone and hands it back to her, and says, "Congratulations, guys."

Elliot kisses the back of Olivia's head and nods, but then sobers as he turns back to Tucker. "Who, uh...who was killed? Why the hell would I kill anyone?"

"Hamlin over there thinks you'd kill anyone who looks at you sideways," Tucker quips as he just a thumb toward his partner. "I told him the only reason you'd actually kill...was if they hurt your wife or kids."

"Damn right," Elliot's voice grits out. "I haven't been anywhere but home and work for...months. How could my prints possibly be anywhere else?"

Hamlin scratches his chin and clears his throat. "You don't know anyone named Clark Dougherty?"

Elliot makes a face. "If I did, I wouldn't kill him. That name is punishment enough." He chuckles but then says, "No, uh...name doesn't ring a bell. What were my prints on, exactly?"

Hamlin opens a folder that he's been holding, throws two photos down onto the table in front of Elliot and Olivia, and he points. "The murder weapon."

Olivia squints as she twists the photo, and then she gives Elliot a scared and unsure look.

He shakes his head as he stares down at the photos. "We…" he tilts his head. "We were on a case...undercover...upstate. These candlesticks were on the mantle in the house we stayed in, but...we didn't take them home. We had no reason to…" he presses his lips together. "The FBI took everything out of that house when we…" he squeezes his eyes shut. "When the case closed."

Tucker and Hamlin look at each other and nod, and then Tucker looks down at Elliot. "This guy," he taps the picture. "He was an FBI informant. He was in a safe house when he was killed."

Elliot squints and shakes his head as he pulls Olivia tighter to him and looks at Tucker. "So you jumped right to me, someone who couldn't have possibly known where this guy was unless I was in the fucking FBI, because of a smudged set of prints?" He looks at Hamlin. "Who else's prints are on those candlesticks?"

"Besides mine," Olivia interjects. "I can name five people who had their hands on them, and unless you tell me that you woke them up at two in the damn morning for this…"

"Dean Porter," Elliot snaps, "But last I heard he was in lock-up."

Hamlin nods and licks his lips. "We have a list," he says, "But you were on it, so we had to…"

"Can we go home?" Olivia asks, pushing out of Elliot's hold. "You have proof he didn't do anything, you know why his prints were…"

"Yeah," Tucker says as he nods. "Just...one more thing before you go." He crooks a finger and watches Elliot rise and walk toward him.

Olivia runs a hand over her stomach as she looks on, seeing Tucker whisper something to her husband, seeing Elliot's face go from tan to white to red. Fear to anger. "What?"

Elliot shakes his head as he grabs her hand and pulls her out of the conference room, through the squadroom, but he's stopped as he tugs her into the hall. His eyes narrow as he glares at the man who's in his way. "Why?" is all he says, through tightly clenched teeth.

Cragen swallows hard. "She's pregnant? You…" he turns to Olivia. "You're having a baby."

She squeezes Elliot's hand. "Yeah, we are." She chews on the inside of her bottom lip, unsure of what the look in Cragen's eyes means or why he says the word _baby _like it's poison. "And it's probably the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me, so if you could look less furious, I'd appreciate it."

Cragen smirks at her. "You don't...you really don't have any idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Liv," Elliot says, still glaring at Cragen. "Tucker told me...the reason they suspected me in the first place…" he looks at her. "Northwood brought three boxes of stuff from the house here, when we got back, because he thought we'd want it. Those candlesticks were in one of the boxes. Someone took them from here...to that house...last night." He blinks and suddenly he's in Cragen's face, leering, baring teeth. "You want me away from her so badly, you'd frame me for murder?"

"What?" Cragen gasps. "No, that...that's why you…" he shakes his head. "No, I thought you were in there...talking about the job that…" he swallows and clears his throat. "I went into the pit, just to see if I was right, and I heard…" he sighs. "Murder? You would never…"

"I wouldn't," he says, "And I'm fucking lucky Tucker and Hamlin know that, or they would've let some punks from the Ninth throw me in a cage!" He growls for a moment. "And what the hell do you mean, she doesn't know what she's doing? What the fuck is going on with you?"

Cragen drags a hand down his face and looks around, and then pulls Elliot's wrist until he and Olivia follow him into his office. "Sit," he spits.

"Not the best time to be bossing me around," Elliot intones. "The truth, now, before I prove to Tucker that I really am capable of murder."

Cragen rolls his eyes. "Stop being so dramatic, Stabler," he says, and then he drops his hands and sits on the edge of his desk. "Someone's been watching the two of you," he holds up a hand. "Not...not just Porter. And you know I was just…"

"We know," Elliot bites, "But it obviously wasn't to protect us." He rubs his forehead as he sits and grabs hold of Olivia. He pulls her into his lap and holds her stomach protectively, his new favorite habit. "We deserve the truth, now."

Cragen drags a hand over his nose and mouth and exhales. "I was told...if you two got too close, it could cost you your lives. I tried like hell to stop you, scare you out of this, but now...once he hears that you're having a baby, he's gonna…"

"Who?" Olivia asks before Elliot can. She tilts her head. "Not Porter, not you, then who?" ."

Cragen nods but he makes a frustrated noise as well. "You have to understand. The thought of anything happening to either of you…" he shakes his head. "It was the night you came home, it's why I was so fucking insistent you tell me what happened up there. When you wouldn't...I panicked. I just agreed to do whatever he told me to do. Because he swore he'd kill you if I didn't."

"Christ," Elliot holds Olivia even tighter. "Who?" He stares into Cragen's eyes and fumes as he says, "If my family is in some kind of danger, my wife, my kids...all five of them...you should have fucking told me!"

Cragen barks back, "He told me not to! He had you both in his crosshairs and God damn it, I wasn't about to be responsible for…"

"Fucking who, Don?" Elliot's voice cracks on the name, his eyes burn, his hands dig into Olivia's waist as his chest heaves.

Cragen winces, closing his eyes, and he whispers, "Monaghan," he confesses. "Threatened my job, your badges, your lives. He...he was hoping that the bastard you were after in Syracuse would…"

"Kill us?" Olivia's eyes narrow and she breathes deeply.

Cragen shakes his head. "Just Elliot," he says. "Liv, I don't know how to tell you this...Commissioner Monaghan...he's about as dirty as they come, he knows you've been after the corrupt bastards in this city, and he's terrified that the two of you are eventually gonna bring him down." Cragen shrugs and says, "I can't prove anything, all I could do is try to keep you two out of anything that…"

Elliot shakes his head again. "Doesn't make any sense," he mumbles. "Why the fuck would it matter if we got married, if we had kids, what does that have to do with…"

"He not alone in this," Cragen licks his lips and knows what he's about to say will set into motion a series of events that could lead to more trouble than he's prepared to handle. "Elliot, there's a reason I've been pushing for you to patch things up with Kathy. Why I've been trying to pull the two of you apart." He runs both hands over his head and down his neck. "Christ, Elliot, it's Kathy's father."

Elliot's eyes widen. "What?" he spits, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Isn't he a dentist?" Olivia eyes Elliot and wonders if she really knows what she's gotten herself into, after all. "El?"

"He's a dentist," Elliot nods, biting his lip. "Some of his patients, uh, are a bit…"

"He's one of the only dentists in the state that is authorized to work in the system," Cragen says flatly. "He works in prisons, and he works on the military and cops." He exhales again. "He was cleaning Monaghan's teeth, shooting the shit, found out they had a common enemy...and they roped me into things, knowing I would do anything to keep the two of you safe."

Elliot is quiet for a minute, but the he turns and kisses Olivia, his hands scoop over her stomach. "I'm not letting anything happen to you. Either of you," he rubs her belly once." He looks at Cragen. "Are you gonna stop being such an ass to us? Or was this all just an excuse for you to…"

"Watch it," Cragen warns, holding up a hand. "I've already told you...I don't approve of how this happened but I love the two of you, and I'm...happy for you." He looks at Elliot sternly. "I'm gonna do what I should've done when this all happened. You two, go home. Stay there."

Elliot pushes Olivia up and watches as Cragen gets up and leaves his office, and then he kisses her again. "You heard the man," he grins and slaps her ass playfully. "Let's go home," he says, and he pulls her by the hand. When they get through the door to the stairwell, his calm facade crumbles. "Fucking," he spits out with a hard grunt, and he pulls her into him, wraps his arms around her, and whispers. "I promise, I'm not gonna let anyone…"

"You haven't," she whispers, scratching her nails through his hair, "And you won't." She kisses his chin. "I'm not letting anyone hurt you, either. Never, El." She kisses his lips, feels his hands cup her ass and pull, and she wraps herself around him.

He moans against her lips, kissing her softly, holding her tight, and in the back of his mind, he wonders if he truly believes anything Cragen has said, or if it was all a ploy to get the heat off of him and keep them playing his games.

He promises, as he kisses his wife, that he will find out as soon as the sun comes up, and he prays that he gets the answers he wants. "I love you," he whispers.

She nods and says, "I love you, too," and walks with him, down the stairs and out of the building, knowing he has a plan, and knowing that he's not doing anything on his own. She will be by his side, no matter what. "Whatever you're thinking," she says to him as they head for the car, "I'm with you."

He turns, stunned, and he smiles. "Yeah, baby," he says. He winks. "You are."

**A/N: Truth? Lies? Next. **


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Now, I'm just fucking confused," Elliot tosses his cell phone down onto the coffee table, takes a few sock-footed steps, and drops onto the couch in the space beside Olivia. He pulls her close, creeps his hands up her shirt, and moans as he closes his eyes.

"I'm guessing you're eventually gonna tell me why," she sighs, and she trails her hands up his arms.

He scoffs and says, "Either Cragen lied to us last night, or Kathy's father lied to me just now." He shakes his head, his chin rubs into the crown of Olivia's scalp, and he exhales again. "As long as I've known him...well, except the time he actually tried to kill me for getting his little girl pregnant...he's never been violent." He pulls away, slides his hands down her back and over her hips to the front of her stomach, and he smiles. "He was a great father-in-law, he's an awesome grandfather, and I can't…" he rubs her belly and chuckles at thoughts in his head that contradict his current state. "I can't imagine him being in on any kind of plot to kill me."

"You left his daughter, took the kids, and bedded down with the one person in the world she was petrified of," Munch's voice speaks into the room. He looks around at the green walls of the lounge, then his eyes land on the pair on the couch. He blinks once and points a bony finger. "You two know what you're doing?"

Elliot nods as he leans back, pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, smirks, and says, "We do." He runs one hand down his face while the other stays hooked around her stomach. "I don't know who to believe, here, I mean...Cragen's been fucking us over for months, Kathy's dad just asked if we wanted the old crib out of his garage or if we needed help painting...that doesn't scream 'plotting your murder' to me."

Munch folds his skeletal arms, tilts his head, and says, "You think Cragen would lie to you?" He sits on the arm of a chair and peers over the rims of his glasses, giving them both a judgemental glare.

Elliot leans forward, clears his throat, and very slowly nods his head. "He's been lying, keeping things from us, forcing us into cases that he knows would push our buttons, even tried to get one of Liv's ex-boyfriends involved." He shakes his head as he bites his lip. "I'm half tempted to go talk to Monaghan myself, if he really wants me that badly, I'll hand myself right to him, but I seriously think this was just another excuse, fucking telling us someone else is to blame when he really just…" he shakes his head and scoffs again, bitterness taking over his features. "He's right," he spits out, and he stands suddenly.

"Right about what?" Olivia asks, and usually, his brooding would be a turn on but at this moment, it's terrifying. This is what she's been afraid of, why she wanted to push back harder than she did and keep him at a safe distance. Now it's too late, and if he pulls away and gives up, her child will be collateral damage. "Elliot?"

He laughs spitefully as he pulls on the cuffs of his grey shirt. "I'm not good enough for you, I know that. I've always known that." He raises his eyes and he swallows to keep his throat from drying out as he speaks. "He's always treated me like a son, maybe I just...it's like it was with my father, ya know? The minute my sister was born, I was suddenly the last on his list. He looked for reasons to blame me for shit, everything I did was a fucking disappointment, and God forbid I do anything better than…"

"What the hell language are you speaking, Stabler, because it sure isn't English," Munch quipped, tilting his head and watching Elliot pace back and forth.

Elliot laughed shortly, looked at Munch, and then shrugged. "Liv came along, so much smarter, better, faster...she kept me in line, for the first time I had a partner that understood me and we had this system of checks and balances," he drags his teeth across both of lips. "He loves her," he whispers, and then he turns, "He loves you, baby, and in his eyes...I had a life. A wife, kids, made commitments that I just…" he blew out a hard breath and knelt in front of her. "He realized I'm not the man he thought I was, I let Kathy run around on me and didn't even…"

"Are you kidding?" Olivia fumed, her eyes narrow. "That tore you apart! Christ, it's not like you jumped into bed with me as soon as you found out she cheated on you! You were hurt, and angry, and none of what happened was your fault! God, more often than not, I'm the one that's in constant need of reassurance, but damn it to hell, I'm not letting you blame yourself for what she put you through! You honored every commitment you have ever made, to anyone, as long as you could!" She holds up her left hand, her right drops to her stomach and she quells the urge to throw up, though she isn't sure if it's morning sickness or nerves that's making her queasy. "This one? Fuck, you persistent son of a bitch, you made this promise long before this ring was on my finger, he knows that! Everyone knows that!"

By now, it's clear that everyone can hear her yelling, as the noises downstairs have stopped and no one is moving. He tries to silence her, raising both hands and shushing with wide eyes, but if there is one thing you do not do, it's try to tell a rightly pissed off Olivia Benson to calm down.

She lets out an irritated chuckle and says, "Good lord, I ran like hell, didn't I? Tried to convince you this isn't what you wanted, told you a million times to go home and try couples counseling, and it didn't matter how fucking in love with you I was!" She looks into his eyes and both of her hands fly to her cheeks. "You ran faster, headed me off at every fucking turn, convinced me that this was only the next logical step, one we'd take eventually anyway. That Kathy's fucking affairs did us a favor, but you were leaving her anyway, as long as you knew…"

"You love me," he whispers, taking her wrists in his hands. He slides her hands down his face until they fall away completely, and then he grabs them in his palms. "Baby, I never...I never want to be the kind of disappointment they think I am."

"Who's _they_, Elliot?" she asks in a hypothetically annoyed tone. "A ghost and a man who's proven that it doesn't fucking matter if you're not who he thought you were because he's not who we thought he was, either? Two men who, time and time again, have let you down? A man you can't get out of your head and your boss..._only _your boss." She leans forward and whispers, "You are more of a man than your father ever was, than Cragen ever will be, and I'm the one who doesn't deserve _you_ but fuck, I am gonna try like hell every day of my life to…"

Her words are silenced as he kisses her, his hands tighten around her wrists. He moans her name softly, it lands on smacking tongues, and he pulls back, panting, and presses his forehead to hers. "I think...we fucking deserve each other. Don't we? After everything we've been through, we deserve this."

She nods and kisses him quickly. "Now you got it," she says, and she winks at him when he straightens up. "As for Monaghan, maybe Tucker can get him to…"

"Tucker already did," Ed's voice breaks into the conversation. He strolls across the carpeted floor, grinning like a sly fox, and he crosses his arms. "May I be the first to say, Benson, that you know how to quiet a room." He holds up a finger. "In a couple of ways, actually, but yelling the way you did…" he blows through pursed lips and raises both eyebrows. "Everyone heard you. Including Cragen."

"Figured," she said, and she sits up straight and folds her hands together, rests her elbows on her knees, and says, "Blame my hormones."

"Oh, I'm blaming your honesty," Tucker laughs, and then he points to Elliot. "You were right to call me, by the way." He wags his finger as he says, "One, someone was trying to frame you. The candlesticks weren't the only thing that ended up at the scene. Someone went to a lot of trouble to do it. Whoever it was, they wanted to make it look like you two were staying in that house and that, uh, you caught Clark Dougherty in bed with Benson." He smirks as he rubs the side of his face. "Guess the guy didn't count on you having a rock-solid alibi, or that your alibi came with a baby."

Elliot's eyes are near slits as he stares at Tucker in disbelief. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," he spits. "What else did he…"

"Well, aside from some other odds and ends with your prints all over them," Tucker interjects, "A dress...strappy little blue thing…"

"Mine," Olivia nods, "It was put into evidence because it had Calderone's blood on it," she confirms. She gives Elliot a worried glance.

Tucker nods but he knows she isn't looking at him. "It had been spot-cleaned, no blood to speak of, but…" he inhales. "Your DNA all over it. Sweat, I'm guessing, a few strands of your hair. I remember what you two told me about that last night in Syracuse, I can imagine how much of a workout you two got." He grimaces. "I didn't mean that to sound so…"

"Man, I know," Elliot says breathlessly. "So, all that shit was housed here, you have to know who had their hands in the locker." He drags a hand down his face. "You said I was right. About Monaghan?"

Tucker looks over his shoulder, and once he's satisfied that Munch is lost in regaling a colleague with tales of UFOs and dead presidents, he turns again and lowers his voice. "Commissioner is a fucking dirty cop, but not one that's out to get you. You two work sex crimes, you wouldn't bust in on any of his shit. He's all about the money and drugs," he explains. He closes his eyes and he sighs again. "Look," he lifts his lids and his gaze is fixed on Elliot, as imploring and sincere of a look as he's ever given anyone. "Let me handle it, do not even let on that you fucking know anything, but…" his brows turn down slightly, his body curls over almost apologetically. "I did a lot of digging, found out that there are three people who've been poking their noses in your case from upstate. One, Chief D'Aiuto, because he thinks he needs to know everything so he can take the credit for letting you two do the damn thing. Two, Agent Sam McAllister, the guy who took over for Porter. Three…" he exhales. He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to say it.

Olivia saves him the trouble. "Cragen," she whispers.

Tucker nods, and this time he knows she's looking right at him. "I checked the log three times, I searched the boxes and shelves, and the stuff only ent missing after Cragen checked in with Baldwin." He swipes his knuckles over his forehead. "Fallon from the Ninth, Homicide, he's filling me in on this every step because someone's trying to pin this on you...Dougherty was a CI for the Two-Seven. Handed information to Briscoe and Green whenever he could, so I'm guessing you two know that means…"

"He knew Cragen," Elliot says, and he rolls his neck. The cracks and pops make the woman beside him cringe and as an apology, he runs a hand down her arm. "What the fuck is going on?" He closes his eyes and drops his head back. "I don't want to believe this is all Cragen, either. I can't. I mean...after last night, after he said…"

"Maybe someone's trying to frame him," Olivia says, and the words come as more of a shock to herself than anyone. "Uh, I mean…" she blinks a few times. "What if...whoever's doing this...isn't just playing with me and Elliot?" She holds up a hand, getting Tucker to listen to her. "Now, we know Cragen tapped out phones and bugged our house, he claimed it was to find out what happened upstate, because he was afraid someone involved in that case is still out to get us." She looks at Elliot. "What if it's not us they're after, and they're slipping Cragen just enough information to keep him scared for us, but not enough for him to realize he's the one in the crosshairs." She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. "We're still being fucking used, but I don't think it's by Cragen." Her eyes flicker back toward Tucker. "Can you call Baldwin and ask him to send up the security tapes from the evidence lockers? Maybe someone went through the stuff after Cragen, after hours, didn't sign in or out." She licks her lips. "Someone who had a key, wouldn't need an escort…"

"Are we back to thinking it's Monaghan?" Elliot asks, the hair on his arms standing on end.

Olivia shakes her head. "No, El…" she leans into him, her eyes staring up and into his almost as if she's trying to look through him. "Did anyone ever verify Porter's housing after sentencing? One phone call and he could've weaseled his way out of an assault charge. You know damn well that he's gotten out of much worse."

Tucker hears her and he leans forward, his voice a harsh whisper. "You think Porter's walking around out there, badge in hand, and he's trying to…"

"Take down the man that almost cost him everything," Olivia finishes for him, "And what better way than to use the two people who helped him do it?" Brushing her hair back, she lets out a breath. "We all know he's never been one to take rejection well, especially from me. He's always been jealous of Elliot, for a lot of reasons, and now...there's a couple more on the list." One hand drops to her belly and she smiles slightly. She starts speaking softly, then, but as she rambles, her voice gets higher, louder, words coming faster. "He wants to know what happened in Syracuse, when he wasn't looking. He wants to know how we got Calderone before he did, he wants to fucking know how we ended up coming home more in love than two people have a Goddamn right to be, and he wants to make sure that he destroys our relationships with the only father either of us has ever known because he fucking knows that it's one of my biggest fears!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Elliot grabs her face and runs his thumbs under her eyes. "Breathe, baby." He gets her to look at him, he smiles and feels her relax in his hold, and he whispers, "What are you afraid of?"

"This," she admits, looking down at her stomach and biting her lip. "Dean knew...I'm terrified of becoming a mother. Of...becoming _my _mother. Doing it all on my own, without knowing what I'm passing down, or how bad my genes really are. He knew...God, he fucking knew," she sniffles and shakes her head. "I told him, once, years ago, that the only way I would be able to do this is with you, El," she confesses, and she blinks hard, letting tears roll out of the corners of her eyes. "I told him...because there was a time where I thought I could trust him...that I would want any child we had to consider Cragen his grandfather, because he was as close to a father I would ever get, and I didn't want him to grow up with half the tree blank...the way I had to."

"So you're saying...it's a boy?" Elliot jokes, nudging her lightly and getting her to smile.

She laughs and then sniffles again. "Boy, girl, it doesn't matter as long as it's healthy, and it's ours, and I am not letting a piece of shit like Dean fucking Porter rip away the one thing I've wanted…"

"Three years ago," Tucker speaks up, holding back his own emotions. "You, uh, you would have had to tell all that to Porter when you were seeing him, which was not too long after you started at this unit, three years ago. That was long before the two of you…"

"Like I said," Olivia wipes her eyes and clears her throat. "I trusted him, once upon a time." She feels Elliot's hand cup her chin, then, and she lets him move her head. She looks into his red and slightly puffy eyes and she instantly feels guilty for upsetting him. "I'm…"

"Our children...have a full, beautiful, family tree," he tells her. "So one or two branches are a little on the thin, side, baby. I think the other eleven-hundred make up for it, and we...I told you this, we can find him. At least, if we find a name we can…"

Tucker clears his throat and says, "Sorry to interrupt this, uh, lovely moment, here, but I need to know if you're officially requesting that I check into the whereabouts of one Dean Porter," he says, looking smarmy.

"And I need to know if you meant that...what you said about...being a grandfather?" Cragen looks at Olivia as her eyes turn and meet his, and he does something he hasn't been able to do in months.

He smiles at her, relaxes, and he breathes.

**A/N: What does Tucker uncover? Is it really Dean? And the kids help put together a nursery, next!**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

There's a silence in the lounge that's eerie and stoic. Olivia bites her lip again, her eyes veer away from Cragen and land on the green walls. Photographs from various Department functions and galas dot them, portraits of retired members of the unit, former captains, and those killed in the line of duty. She pauses, her gaze landing on a shoddy, splintered, walnut door. She smirks, knowing behind it lies a few old, creaky, smelly cots and bunk beds, one of which has molded itself into the shape of her body. Memories of sleepless nights, and more recently nights spent curled up with Elliot, between cases or in the middle of one that had been taking too fucking long.

So much of her life now lies in this building, with the people in it, and the entirety of her being including her unborn child, lies solely with the man on the couch beside her. She blinks once and finally speaks. "I meant it," she says. "Um, at least...I did...before you started playing chess with me and...my family."

Elliot squeezes her tightly, hearing her call him and the kids her family, and he dips his head to whisper into her ear. "Our family."

She smiles and nods, turning slightly into him. "Our family."

Cragen exhales and steps closer to them, taking a slight pause to wonder how long of a break they thought they were taking. He sees Elliot's shoes in a lopsided pile next to the couch, notices the way they're practically intertwined on the sofa. "I've already explained myself, I didn't set out to hurt either of…"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," she mumbles, and it ears a soft gasp and surprised smile from Elliot. She rolls her eyes and laughs at how easily he's amused when she parrots advice or religious epithets that he's given her. "You didn't intend...but you did." She shrugs. "I'm used to it, I expect the people in my life to eventually let me down, I was prepared for this, but for the love of God, did you have to…"

"Liv," Elliot's voice is soft, right in her ear, and when she looks at him he shakes his head. "Baby, you have me, you have the kids, you have…" his hands press into her stomach as he chokes on a slight sob. "You have this little miracle. And we are never gonna let you down."

She drops her head to his and says, "I didn't really include you in that." She closes her eyes as he kisses her forehead. After a sweet moment, she lifts her head and looks back t Cragen. "I'm sorry," she scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip. "Hormones."

Tucker rolls his eyes and chuckles, then stands, looks at Cragen, and says, "We, uh, we want to take you at your word on this. The three…" he grins. "Four. The four of us. Pretty sure that baby wants his Grandpa Don to, ya know, not be a total douchebag."

Relieved laughter fills the small space, and Cragen nods when Tucker tells him they need to talk. He moves over to Olivia and Elliot, bends slightly, and hesitantly wraps his arms around both of them. "I swear, I was only trying to…"

"Like Ed said," Elliot speaks, trying not to give in to his emotions, "We want to believe you. We do." He drags a thick, rough hand down the front of his face as he pushes away from Cragen and Olivia. He shoves his feet into his shoes, reaches for his jacket, and then checks his watch. "We're not getting anywhere on this thing with Knox, can we…"

"Go," Cragen squeezes Olivia again. "Get some rest, feed my, uh...grandkid," he pokes her belly lightly, and they share a laugh which in itself causes more emotions to rise. He clears his throat. "When you come in, tomorrow, you...we need to talk about," he waves a hand over her belly. "How this is gonna work with you, um…" he scratches his head. "None of my detectives have ever been in this position. My first instinct is to stick you behind a desk…"

"I talked to Warner, and three other doctors," she interrupts, and she eyes Elliot because she knows he's on Cragen's side this time. "I can work full duty, as long as it's safe."

"Maybe if we were in TARU," Elliot scoffs. He doesn't realize how loud he's getting as he stares at her. "None of what we do out there is completely safe. How often are we running after assholes with guns, how many times have you been hit, stabbed, I can't…"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" she yells back, matching his volume.

"What I want is to wrap you in a bulletproof bubble, but since that's not gonna fucking happen," he huffs and he scrubs his face with both hands. "We can...handle interviews. Interrogations, as long as you stay out of the way if they get outta hand. Fieldwork, ya know, when we're not going after the perp...we can do this, can't we?" He shoots his eyes toward Cragen. "Yeah, I said _we_, she's my wife, but she's still _my_ partner, _my_ pregnant…" his lips twist into a smile as the word leaves him. "My pregnant partner, and I'm not leaving her alone, at all."

Cragen furrows his brow but he nods. "Yeah, uh, that...that works." He folds his arms. "Thank you for that, by the way. Calling her…"

"I know your rules. We're at work," Elliot remarks, but then he holds out his hand and waits for Olivia to slip her fingers into his palm. "Well, we were until now. Come on," he coaxes. "I wanna go home."

She sees something in his eyes, the need to get out of the station, and she offers Cragen a smile and a nod before letting Elliot pull her off of the couch and down the stairs. "Slow down," she says, but he's not listening.

He drags her through the squadroom, grabs their coats off of the back of his chair as they whiz past their desks. He has her out in the hall and in front of the elevator in mere seconds. "Sorry," he pants, "I just...I couldn't breathe, in there. I was getting...God, I didn't know whether to hit him or…"

She rubs his back as they step into the opening elevator, and she nods as she sighs. "I know, trust me." She blinks once and then says, "I think...I haven't really had time to process this." She looks down. "I'm pregnant." She tilts her head and wonders if the shirt she's wearing will still button over a bump, if the pants she has on will zip when she's a bit bigger. She pulls and tugs at the blazer she's wearing as it dawns on her that she doesn't have anything in her closet that she can grow into.

He watches her toy with her clothes for another second, but then grabs her shoulders and pulls her to him. He helps her on with her jacket, kisses her nose, and says, "We'll have to go shopping, won't we?" He winks at her and one of his hands moves to caress her ass. "I can't wait to watch your body change. You think I have a hard time keeping my hands off of you now? Wait until…" he pauses, seeing the look in her eyes, and he laughs. "No, no way." He shakes his head. "Didn't happen like this with Kathy, I was always more afraid to go near her when she was pregnant." He clears his throat. "I tried to be there for her, I was...loving, doting even, but nothing about her sparked any more interest than usual, and you know the usual wasn't…"

"I know," she stops him, talking about Kathy is on the list of things that make her more nauseated now. She moves away from him when the bell dings and the doors slide open. She's not even a foot out when she throws her head back and whines. "We have to tell her, don't we?" she warbles, irritated, and then her head pops up and her eyes widen. "Shit, we have to tell my mother." Her brows raise even more. "We have to tell _your_ mother."

He laughs as he nods, and he shoves her playfully toward the doors leading out of the lobby and into the city night. "We will, relax," he laughs. Secretly, he's just as anxious as she is, this child is no more or less loved than the other kids, but it' with Olivia. His Olivia. There's more at stake. He takes her hand and looks up, seeing a few stars beginning to come out of hiding in the pale purple sky. "It's gonna be a beautiful night," he says on a sigh. "Shit, the world itself is more beautiful now."

"You're really happy about this," she says, as if it took her until this moment to believe him. She watches him turn to her, sees him nod quickly and emphatically, and she laughs at how genuine it all is. She gives his hand a squeeze and when he grips back even tighter, she tugs at him. Her lip is caught between her teeth, her eyes are sparkling, and she waits.

He smirks as he leans into her and kisses her, his free hand cups her face and he moans against her lips. They're broken apart by his ringing phone, and he groans as he pries his lips from hers. Pulling his phone out of his pocket with one hand, he still stares into Olivia's eyes and winks at her as he answers the call with a breathy, "Stabler." His brows knit. "Maur? What happened, what is that…" he presses his lips together and his eyes close. He exhales and says, "Okay, well, that's very sweet of you, but you don't...oh, he did, huh?" He looks over at Olivia and says into the phone, "Yeah, pizza sounds great. Tell grandpa to order it, um...yeah. Whatever you guys want. We'll be home in a few minutes." He pauses at something his daughter says to him. "Mommy and I love you, too."

Her head tilts, her eyes flicker with the doubt that alternates between being overwhelming and nonexistent. She squeezes his hand.

After hanging up, he rubs his eyes with the hell of his hand and sniffles. "Uh, Kathy's dad...brought the crib over to the house, and he…" he blows out hard through a small round "o" in his lips. "Baby, the kids helped him...they moved Dickie's stuff into the empty bedroom down the hall and turned his room into a nursery." He feels his eyes well up and he laughs. "God, baby, they said...they're so excited about this baby." He bends and kisses her again. "Obviously, we...we don't need to worry about telling Kathy, her father did that already."

"Great," she scoffs, and she follows as he leads her to the Ford, the car that holds just as many memories as the building they're walking away from, and she says, "I've never met either of Kathy's parents. Why would they be so…"

"They're family," he says, and he unlocks the car. "Kathy cheated on me, remember? Her folks know that, they don't...they don't blame me as much they probably should, and they're not just gonna walk out of my life, out of the kids' lives, because…" he chuckles. "Ya know, her father probably likes me a lot more now that I'm not married to his daughter." He opens the door for her, waits, and then walks around and gets into the driver's seat. He slips the key into the ignition, turns it, but before he puts the car into reverse, he licks his lips. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" she waits, and when he doesn't speak, she reaches for his face, the back of her hand grazes his cheek. "What is it?"

He turns with his eyes closed and kisses the palm of her hand. He nuzzles into her touch and says, "That first night in Syracuse...we made dinner together...we had wine and we…"

"Danced," she smiles at him, remembering. "You turned on the radio, some cheesy love song was playing and you made me dance with you, in the living room, in front of the fireplace, and you said…" her eyes widen, something she'd forgotten all about comes back to her as vividly as if it had happened a moment ago. "You were serious."

He nods and he kisses her hand again, and then her wrist, and he playfully nips at her fingers. "I meant every fucking thing I said to you, the entire time we were there. But that…" he grins. "I guess I was warning you."

She shakes her head in disbelief, his words now ringing in her ears. _I want to be the guy, Liv. _They'd been talking about his kids, and why she didn't have any. His marriage, and why she couldn't see a relationship through past a third date. She'd told him she hadn't been with _the guy_. She'd said she'd only have kids with _the guy_, the man who would prove he'd never leave, never hurt her or any kids they may have, never break her heart. He'd danced her around the room, held her close, he'd sung to her, and he'd whispered, _I want to be the guy, Liv. I am the guy. I swear I am. _

He looks at her and he knows she's thinking, remembering, and he leans over the console and kisses her softly, "I told you, I'm the guy." He brings one hand down and places it on her stomach.

Both of her hands drop and cover his and she kisses him again. "Yeah, you are," she whispers. "You always have been. You heard what I said back there, I knew years ago...I wanted this with you. Just you." She kisses him once more. "Let's go home to...our kids. Pizza's probably already there," she jokes.

He wipes his eyes and nods, then backs out of the parking space. He drives off in the direction of their perfect house, the one that reminds them so intensely of the place that brought them out of the fog to find each other. He tightens his jaw as he thinks about the man that's trying like hell to rip it all away from him, and he growls too lowly for it to be heard by Olivia. He turns the wheel as he silently promises to find the son of a bitch who's playing with them like army men, like a set of toy soldiers.

He grins slyly, then, because he knows better than anyone, even toy soldiers have their weapons. And his?

They're deadly.

**A/N: Elliot may or may not have a plan...but what is it?**


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Are you coming to bed, sometime soon, or are you gonna stand there all night?" He asks the question with a grin on his face, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans against the frame of the door.

She laughs, but doesn't move from her spot in front of the crib. She has a stuffed patchwork rabbit in her hands, running her fingers along one of its tattered ears. "This is…" she sniffles, alerting him to the fact that she's crying, and she shrugs. "This is perfect." She looks around the room and takes in the beauty of the simple white walls, pale green trim and yellow molding. Her eyes travel over the pieces of hand-me-down furniture, including the crib and changing table that homed all four of Elliot's other kids. Her heart thumps, one hand moves from the bunny to her belly.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" he says, and he pulls on the drawstrings of his grey sweatpants as he starts to move.

She hears his soft footfalls and closes her eyes as he wraps her in his arms and drops his head to her shoulder. She nuzzles into him as she drops the bunny into the crib, and leans back, loving the way he feels firm behind her. "I called my mother," she says, and she waits for his reaction.

He nods, his chin rolls into the crook of her neck. "I was in the room," he says as he kisses her cheek. "I heard you tell her, I heard you laugh, I heard...and saw...you were happy. She was happy." He kisses her cheek again, then cranes forward to kiss her lips. "Hm?"

She nods, her smile warms as she turns her head to look at him. She can't help herself, and her hands slip up and down his chest, over his muscles. "She never thought she'd see the day someone not only roped me into marrying him but that I'd have kids some time this century." She chuckles, kisses him, and says, "To be honest, neither did I."

He smirks more wickedly as he pulls her closer, smooths one hand up her back and slips it around the back of her neck, and he kisses her deeply. "You didn't, until you met me, right?" he jokes. He sees the look in her eyes and he sighs. "Yeah, uh, I know I was…"

She stops him with a kiss and shakes her head. "We're here, now," she says, telling him she doesn't want to talk about the what-ifs or think about the way things were. "Kathy's father is...nice. He was so nice, and I didn't expect…" she sighs. "Well, I didn't expect him to be nice to me, anyway."

"Kathy's over it," he tells her as he smooths her hair back. "You know she loves you, Liv. She's actually excited about the baby. She said she's gonna enjoy watching me try to raise a kid that's got my attitude _and _yours." He chuckles and kisses her forehead. "Besides, there's no reason for anyone to hate you, remember…"

"You weren't innocent, you were two seconds away from…" she raises an eyebrow as he presses a finger to her lips.

"No one knows about that," he tells her with a wink. He takes a deep breath and looks around the nursery, and he sighs as he shakes his head. "This room is perfect. I can't believe the kids did this."

She drops her head into his chest and nods, and she says, "Dickie was so cute, he was covered head to toe in paint and he looked so proud," she laughs, and she whispers, "I love you."

"I love you," he returns, "And I love this little miracle." He wraps his hands around her stomach and brushes their noses together. "Everything is so fucking perfect, right now," he whispers and he says, "Everything I have ever fucking wanted, is right here," he breathes. "In my arms." He pulls her tighter and sighs as he starts to rock with her, and he hums a familiar song.

She grins. "That's the song that was playing…"

"Yup," he says, and he hums some more, swaying more with her.

Her mind travels back to that night in Syracuse, the way he danced her around the living room, sang to her, laid her down in front of the fireplace, kissed her the way no one ever had and how they'd almost taken things way too far and blown the entire case. She sniffles and looks up at him, her reddening eyes watering and her lower lip trembling slightly. "I love you," she says softly. "So much."

He smiles at her, kisses her again, and he starts to move her out of the new nursery and into the hallway, his fingers skimming along the edges of her plaid pajama pants. He stops her just outside their bedroom door. He pulls lightly on her pants as he kicks the door open.

She gasps slightly as the fabric bunches around her ankles, but she kicks her pants off and lets him pull her top up over her head. Her own hands work to shove down his sweats, and she moans when she feels his dick bob against her wrist.

He moves his legs, shirking away his pants, and he kisses her roughly as he gives her a light shove onto the bed. He's silent, except for a few moans, as he palms her slightly rounded stomach and works his hips between her thighs. "I love you," he says, "So fucking much."

She closes her eyes, her head falls back, she feels him push into her slowly and deeply. "God, I love you."

He grunts once, hitting as far as he can, and as he pulls out he wraps his arms tightly around her upper body, buries his head in the bend of her neck, latches onto a soft patch of skin, and then starts to thrust at an intensely powerful pace.

She moans in time with his grunts, whimpers when he growls. The way he's holding her is purely possessive and desperate. The force of his thrusts is needy and she answers every feral cry with one of her own.

He needs her closer, tighter against him, and he curls into her as much as he can. He grunts once when she hikes her legs up higher on his back, and he speeds up his thrusts. It's fast, furious, and so incredibly amazing. "Liv, fuck, baby. God, Liv."

Her cries echo his and her body seizes, her nails dig into his back, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she says, "Oh, my God, Elliot."

His entire body becomes one flexed muscle, his skin turns red, the veins pop out of his arms, neck, chest, forehead, and he growls as he cums with a ferocity that surprises him. He clutches her to him as he stills and fires into her, and he knows if she wasn't already pregnant, this would have made her.

She pants as she skims her hands up and down his back, their matching quick pulses loud in their ears. She gasps when he flips them over, but drops her head limply against his chest. She has no energy to argue.

His torso rises and falls, taking her head with it, his fingers playing in the damp waves of her hair. With closed eyes and a sated smile, he chuckles and says, "God damn, baby, I love you."

She laughs breathlessly, her arms draped over his slick body, and she places soft kisses to his chest as she settles against him more completely.

It's not a long enough time, but they manage to get some sleep before both of their phones start ringing. He winces and moves first, rubbing his eyes as he shoots out a hand. He reaches for his phone on the side table, grabbing hers with it. He lifts his head to press against hers with a heavy breath, and he answers his phone and brings it to his ear. With another deep sigh, he gripes, "Stabler," and softly kisses her as she answers her own call.

"All right," she replies to her caller, closing her eyes in disappointment. She's annoyed but thankful that she had some time to revel in the fact that her life had finally become what she'd wanted it to, with the only man she'd ever loved. "We'll be right there." She hangs up and shakes her head. "Well, it was a good night, while it lasted."

He chuckles and says, "Fucking amazing," as his hands drive up her naked body.

"Don't start," she says, rolling her eyes and biting her lip. She pushes off of him and seethes as he slips out of her, and on wobbly legs, she walks over to the closet. Stifling a yawn, she screws up her face. "I'm gonna need to start wearing your shirts to work," she jokes, pulling one of her own off of a hanger.

He laughs as he walks over to her, and he reaches for a pair of khaki pants. "I told you, I'll take you shopping. Tomorrow." He kisses the back of her head, and they dress each other in silence, sharing soft kisses and sweet caresses, both hating the fact they need to go to work, but loving that they get to do it together.

He pulls on his tie and slips his socked feet into his shoes, and then turns to her. "You're glowing," he tells her with a tilt of his head. "You're absolutely glowing." He leans over and kisses her forehead, and then he holds the door for her.

She smiles as she leaves the room, running her fingers through her hair, and she says, "I feel different. I can't explain it, I don't even know...I'm not even that far into this, but I feel...like a mother." She presses her lips together.

He pulls her close and kisses her gently. "Because you are a mother," he whispers. "You have been an amazing mother to the kids, for almost a year. You're only letting yourself realize how incredibly real and permanent this all is, and that we get to raise this little one, from the very beginning, together." He cups her chin, sighs, and kisses her one last time. "Let's go," he says, and he smacks her ass lightly to get her moving down the hall toward the stairs.

As her laugh fades, he narrows his eyes. He fishes his phone out of his pocket again, staring at the screen for a moment. He bites his lip as he fires off a quick text to Morales, hoping he can get some information on the last incoming call. Olivia may have gotten an assignment from Cragen, but the person that called him wanted something else entirely.

**A/N: Oop? What?**


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW) **_**This chapter is inspired by Olivia Gatwood's poem, If There Were a God. **_

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

He's staring at her through the open door. He can't help it. In the way she moves, the way she walks, the way she holds their victim's hand and reassures her that everything's going to be okay, he sees beauty. He sees the gifted spirit his unborn child will inherit, he sees an angel on Earth, he sees everything good in his life, and he mumbles a quick prayer thanking God for her and apologizing for everything he's ever done wrong in his life.

He folds his arms and leans against the wall of the hospital, scrapes his teeth across his lip, and thinks. She's made him more aware of the world around him, more grateful for every bit of it. He uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in his pockets, his right fingers fiddle with a cross-shaped keychain as he mentally thanks God for smaller things like eighty-degree weather and fir trees, subway musicians, doctors and nurses, teachers and librarians. He thanks God for the parents who raised those people, or for giving the ones without good parents the strength to do things on their own.

He says a silent prayer, thanking God for the million reasons he has to be thankful, and suddenly he squints his eyes. He hears the beaten, battered woman in the bed say something to Olivia, something that strikes him to the core because he remembers Olivia saying the same thing years ago.

"Why," the woman cries, she shakes her head. "If there were a God, why would he let this happen?" She sniffles and shrugs, and she says, "Or she. It. Whatever."

He holds his breath because usually, he's the one with the rhetorical religious vernacular, but the vic has requested he stay out of the room. He chews on the inside of his cheek and he waits, unblinking eyes on his partner. On his wife. On the mother of his children.

Olivia smiles as she squeezes the woman's hand. "This isn't God's fault, and it's not a way to prove or refute His existence. This happened because a very sick, very dangerous man refused to take no for an answer and that is not your fault. None of this is your fault." She takes a breath and says, "I wasn't always quick to believe in God, in goodness. But I do like the idea of being able to thank someone…" she stops and she smiles. "Thank God you survived this, thank God that you're going to get through this, and you will be so much stronger," she nods once and says, "And thank God you have me, and my partner, working on this because we are going to find him, and we are going to make sure he pays for what he did to you."

The woman breaks down and cries a little harder as she nods and she squeezes Olivia's hand.

Beyond the door, Elliot smiles. He falls in love with her all over again and his arms fold again, one palm falls over his tattoo as he sends another prayer up to God and Jesus. He takes a breath and turns, and he's about to head for the nurse's station to check on the kit when his phone rings. He checks the number before he answers, wary from the morning's rude awakening, and he sighs as he taps the button. "Yeah, Morales, what d'ya got?"

Olivia comes up behind him as he's listening intently to what Morales is saying, and she watches with a confused expression on her face. One hand falls to her stomach, her queasiness settling in, and she looks around, the sterile hallway and ambient noise bringing up countless memories. She remembers every victim, every story. She remembers every perp and every trial. She remembers names and faces she wishes she could forget, she carries the pain of each survivor. She blinks herself out of her thoughts and she feels his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, running his hands down her arms. "You need to go to the…"

"No, no, I'm fine," she says, shaking her head. "What was that all about?" she points to his phone.

He shoves his phone in his pocket and lightly shoves her, getting her to walk with him as he talks to her. "That number, uh, it was linked to a bouncing signal, and right now there's no way to tell who it was. I couldn't even tell by his voice, he was using one of those machines, he sounded like fucking Darth Vader." He coughs once as he steps with her over to the nurse's station, and he leans against the curved wood of the counter. "It was bullshit, anyway, we know no one was following you. I just figured Morales could find out if it was Porter, or whoever's fucking around with us."

She smooths out the creases in his grey lapels, offering him a smile. "You wanted to protect your family, there's nothing wrong with that," she tells him. "You know he's not finished, don't you?" She tugs lightly on his tie. "Morales looks up to you, he wants to do right by you. He's gonna wait until no one is watching him, and he'll use, uh, less legal methods of tracing that number."

He chuckles and nods, knowing that his friend has secrets and ways of getting information that the department doesn't know about. With a wink, he drags his fingers along the hem of her shirt. "This looks adorable on you," he tells her, and he means it.

She rolls her eyes as she flicks her bangs out of her face, and she says, "You'd think I look cute in a garbage bag."

He thumbs the edge of her blue tee-shirt again as he laughs, and says, "Yeah, you would, though." He makes eye contact with a nurse and calls her over, but looks back at Olivia and says, "I don't know why you felt the need to change. You looked perfectly fine in that white…"

"It kept riding up," she interrupts, and she pulls on the sleeves of her jacket. "I'm still wearing my suit, but that shirt wouldn't stay put."

"Because you're having a baby," he says, and he practically feels his eyes light up as he adds, "My baby." He leans in and kisses her forehead, but moves back as the nurse makes her way over. He nods and smiles politely, then says, "Everything bagged up for us, yet?"

The nurse nods and slides him a cardboard box filled with sealed bags and plastic vials. "All set on this one, but the other one is gonna be a while. You can wait in the lounge if you want."

They share a questioning look with the nurse, and then one with each other, and Olivia's the one to ask the question. "Second one?"

The nurse hands her a clipboard and says, "She came in while you were questioning Miss Danes," she taps the board. "Sign please?"

Olivia narrows her eyes as she grabs the pen, but before she signs the log, she gasps. "Elliot," she breathes.

"What?" he replies, moving closer to her. "What is it?" He looks down at what she's been staring at and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

"Barton," Olivia mutters. She scrawls her signature in two separate boxes. "Where is she?"

"Exam room three," the nurse answers quickly, "And I hate that you know exactly where that is." She takes the clipboard back and sighs.

Olivia looks at Elliot. "I'll go," she tells him. "As much as she wants you, I really don't think she's up to seeing you, right now."

He nods at her as he licks his lips, and just as soon as she rounds the corner down a different hallway, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He sees a couple of nurses shooting him dirty looks, but they all know that cops are an absolute exception to the "no cell phone" rule. He gnaws on the lower inside bit of his lip until someone answers, and he snaps as soon as they do. "Me again, listen, I need you to pull all your white rabbits out of your hat and find this bastard for me." He closes his eyes. "I don't think he was threatening Liv, I think...I think he was threatening anyone he thinks would get in her way."

He listens to Morales for a while longer, then he says, "Whatever you have to do, man. Thanks." He hangs up and turns, clenching his fist and keeping himself from punching a hole in the closest wall. "Damn it," he spits, and then he turns. "Michelle," he calls to the nurse again, and when she steps up to him, he asks, "Who came in with her?"

"Um," the young woman turns toward a small computer and types a few things. "Officer Stephen Garcia and two EMTs," she says, "But the phone call I got told me to give the kit to you guys."

"Phone call," Elliot repeats, surprised. "You, uh, you have the number of the guy that called?"

"I should be able to pull it up," she says as she presses buttons on the multi-line phone on the desk. "We store numbers for twenty-four hours, and this was only...yeah. Here ya go," she scribbles it down on a yellow sticky note and hands it to him. "I remember the time because I had to write it down in the report for the kit."

"Thanks," he says with a smile, and when she walks away to tend to other things, he looks down at his cell. He fires off a text to Morales before he types the number into his search engine, in case he's wrong. In case it really was an official call. His eyes widen and he runs toward exam room three as he rushes to call another number.

He hopes Cragen will answer the phone.

**A/N: Oh no. Poor Barton! This one is winding down soon...**


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N:** **Learning from the tears and the mistakes, We're not perfect but we've come such a long way ****(Soldier - James TW)**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Why," her voice is soft, concerned, slightly pissed off, and she looks at Elliot with narrow brows and crossed arms. "Why the fuck would he go after her?"

"Same reason he went after Kathy," Elliot says just as softly. "We knew, uh, we knew he was going to do it, we just thought...he was trying to hurt me, but maybe…" he clears his throat and sighs, runs his hands up and down the sleeves of his jacket. "Maybe he knows he lost, but he's got very real feelings for you, he wants you to be happy, so he's…"

"Attacking the women he thinks could…" she pauses, her eyes close and she shivers at the thought as the words form on her tongue, the thought makes her even more sick to her stomach that she already had been. "Could break us up. Anyone you, uh, you could leave me for," she suppresses a gag as she cringes, the way the words leave her mouth reminds her of a time when she believed them.

"Hey, hey," he sees the look in her eyes as he gently grabs her chin and turns her head. "Never gonna happen," he whispers to her. "There's no one...no one that could ever tear us apart, you know that. There never has been, there never will be," he says, and there's a severity in his voice that he's never used for reasons that weren't violent.

She nods as she sniffles, wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands, shrugs and says, "Hormones," which is her God-given excuse for everything now. She inhales sharply and blows out a hot breath through an open mouth. "What did Cragen say?"

"He's sending Fin and Munch to the city offices, they're gonna talk to Porter's old partner and boss, try to get the truth out of them." He blinks and looks around the stark and quiet hallway. He licks his lips and gnashes his teeth down on his bottom one. "He Talked to Tucker, uh, there's no record of Porter being signed into Rikers at all, and the guys who were in charge of transport were given an assignment change, handed the pick-up off to the feds."

"So we were right," she scoffs, and she turns slightly to look into Barton's room, "He's still on the job."

"And part of that job is keeping us on a leash," he tells her, nodding. "What, uh, what did Barton say to you?"

"Oh, she said she hopes this won't make you think less of her," she says dryly. "And that you won't think of her like a victim or think she's fragile, now. She wants me to assure you that she's perfectly fine and this won't affect her ability to have sex with you." She raises both hands and tilts her head. "Her words, not mine." She shoves her hands into her pockets and smirks. "I told her I would relay the message but that she needed to know the truth before she embarrassed herself, I told her...you're happily married." She eyes him for a moment. "To me. And that we're having a baby, so clearly you're completely satisfied with your sex life." She chuckles and says, "She turned a beautiful shade of green, then made a noise I don't think I've ever heard before."

He laughs and moves to answer his ringing phone. "Great, but I meant, what did she tell you about her attack," he rolls his eyes and answers the call with a too-chipper sounding, "Stabler."

She watches him closely, reading his expression as he listens to the caller, and immediately she knows who it is. She lunges, but Elliot keeps her at bay. His slight height advantage proves useful once in a while. She makes a frustrated grunting noise, but she shouts, knowing the man on the phone can hear her. "You son of a bitch, you didn't have to attack an innocent woman to…"

He covers her mouth with a strong hand, and something about the way she struggles against his hold is so fucking cute, he almost forgets what's happening on the line. "Your reasons don't matter, motherfucker," his low, cool voice has a hint of threat in it. "Someone's already on your ass, and it isn't us." He hangs up, exhales, and looks down at Olivia. He raises an eyebrow at her.

Relenting, she gives another grunt and stops moving. She raises one brow and folds her arms, and she waits until he pulls his hand away from her face. "Should've let me fucking…"

"Not in the middle of the emergency room, huh?" he chides, and he says, "He was asking us to let him go, that he was only...helping you." He drops his phone back into his pocket. "Liv, he, uh, he wanted to frame me for this, too. He knew Barton had the hots for me, he wanted to make it look like I…"

"What the fuck?" she snaps, "I'm so fucking confused. Does he want…"

"When he found out that you're pregnant, that it's mine, he changed the plan." He looks into her eyes, wraps his hands around her wrists, and he says, "Once he had proof that this wasn't just us taking work home with us, or my way of getting even with Kathy, he stopped trying to rip me away from you and started trying to make sure...that no one else would."

Olivia's eyes flicker. "He was trying to come between us until he realized it was impossible," she says, and she twists her wrists and grabs his hands. "And now he's trying to keep it that way." She runs her hands over her stomach, her fingers grasp the hem of her blue tee. There's so much more at stake now, so much she'd never have, and thinking about it makes her wonder if she should kill Dean Porter or thank him. "Why was he trying to take Cragen down, if this has been about us the whole time?"

"In the beginning, it was because he didn't play hardball with the feds, we had to go over his head," he says, "And then it was because he didn't push harder to get the details from us…" he pauses, he licks his lips, "Then he was trying to get him pulled from the unit because he wasn't taking any kind of action against us for…" he reaches for her hand, grabs it, and squeezes it. "For this. Now, though, it's, uh...it's so he _won't_ do anything to us, and our kids, and this...this beautiful…" His voice breaks as he moves his other hand. His fingers tremble as he holds out a palm and places it over her stomach. He shakes his head, there's a noticeable shift in his demeanor as his eyes darken and his jaw tightens. "Take her statement, grab the kits, take the Ford," he shoves his left hand into his pants pocket and fishes out the car keys. He slaps them into her open palm. "I will meet you back at the station. Stay there...until I get there, you hear me?"

"What? Where the fuck...what the hell are you doing?" Her eyes are wide and if she didn't have keys in her hand she would've slapped some sense into him as he pulled away from her.

He's halfway down the hall, but he yells to her. "What I should've done in Syracuse!" He takes a few more steps. "I love you!"

"Elliot! What the fuck are you doing?" she yells back, but he ignores her as he takes off running, down the hall and around the corner, and she's never felt like throwing up more than she does right now.

She bites her lip and looks down at her hand. She jingles the keys as his words resonate. _What I should've done in Syracuse._ Her mind races, she tries to remember, tries to think. _What the hell could he mean by that? When the fuck was he alone with Porter in Syracuse? _Suddenly it dawns on her, and she's not sure if she's recalling actual events or part of a dream.

It'd been well after midnight, she'd taken a shower and something to relieve the killer headache that having to drink so much red wine had given her. She'd put on a pair of Elliot's sweats and her tank top, crawled into bed and closed her eyes, which is why she'd remembered it as a dream.

She'd heard their conversation. Dean's irritated and accusatory voice asked _Don't you think you're overdoing it? You're supposed to be a couple of stockbrokers, not porn stars. _She'd heard the way Elliot chuckled and said _Hey, I can't help it, we have chemistry. _Her heart thumps harder, faster, as the memory plays clearly in her mind, and she hears Dean's voice almost as if he's right beside her. _You know this is all pretend, right? She's not really in love with you, she's acting, I mean, you get that, don't you?_

_Do I? _Elliot had retorted, and she can imagine the grin that must have been on his face.

She remembers hearing Porter give a bitter laugh as he sneered back at Elliot. _She's not the type to fall in love, Stabler. Besides, don't you have a wife waiting at home for you?_

_You have no idea how fucking wrong you are! She's completely capable of falling in love, _she'd heard Elliot say, and now she knows why he ignored the crack about Kathy. _She loves...so completely, so fucking deeply...just didn't love you. She never loved you. That's what kills you. You're jealous, you have been for years, even when you were…_

_Jealous? Me? Of you?_ She'd listened as Porter gave an exaggerated laugh, his tell. _You wish, Stabler. Trust me, I'm not. You can try all you want, you know. She's_ _not gonna fuck you, not here, not now, so stop fucking trying to get laid and fucking start following my orders before you jeopardize this case! _She cringes as Elliot's reply rings in her ears almost as loudly as he'd yelled it to Porter a year ago. _We aren't gonna jeopardize the case, and I wouldn't take your orders if I worked at fucking Burger King...ya know what, you need to leave, before I say something...before I do something I'm gonna regret. Well, I wouldn't regret it, but… just get the fuck out. _

"Detective Benson?" a nurse's voice calls. "She's all set, you can go in and see her now."

Olivia blinks a few times, snapping herself back into reality, back into the moment, and she mumbles a muffled curse under her breath as she turns and heads into Barton's room to take her official statement, thoughts of her partner, her husband, knocking at the back of her mind.

An hour later, she strolls into the station and looks around hopefully, expectantly, and when she's met with nothing but the concerned faces of the unit, she caves. She heaves a dejected sigh and throws the keys to the Ford onto Elliot's cluttered desk. She takes off her blazer, rolling her eyes at the way Munch smirks at her NYPD tee shirt. She drops into her desk and rakes her nails through her hair, the framed photo on her desk catching her eyes. She smiles as she reaches for the phone on her desk, leaving her cell free in case Elliot calls, and she dials her mother's number.

Fin listens with one ear, grinning at the sweet conversation, mentally taking note of it since it's one of the few times he's heard her talk to her mother without crying or yelling. His eavesdropping is cut short when his desk phone rings, and he answers it with a heavy breath. "Special Victims, this is Detective...hey, man, what's up?" He shoots a glance at Olivia as he snaps his fingers. It catches her attention and he points excitedly to the phone. "Uh, yeah, she's here, you want to...okay, okay, slow down, I ain't fuckin' Siri, I gotta actually write shit down!" He reaches for a pen and watches Olivia hang up her call with her mother. "One-twenty-five what?"

"Newport Drive," Olivia says, her eyes widen as she reaches for the phone. She rips it out of Fin's hand and brings it to her ear, ignoring the fact that the cord has tangled Fin in its tail. "What the hell are you doing all the way up in fucking...well, then who is...oh. Oh, my God, where are you?" She walks as far as she can with the receiver, then expertly stretches on leg and lunges until she can reach the thrown away keys and her jacket. "Stay there, I will be right there, okay, we...I love you, too." She throws the phone to Fin who glares at her as he catches it.

"Okay." Munch peers at her as he gets out of his seat. "Wherever you're going, you're not going alone."

"I'm going to the federal building," she says as she pulls on her blazer. "To get Elliot."

"And then?" Munch narrows his bespectacled eyes as he slips his bony arms into his long, black trench coat.

She exhales as she fidgets with the keys. "And then...we're going to Syracuse."

**A/N: Gasp! Why? What?**


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Fin scratches at his head, shifting over in the backseat to talk to Olivia, who's foot hasn't left the gas pedal since picking up Elliot. "Why the hell are we flyin' up Route Eighty at the most illegal speed I think we've ever…"

"Because," Elliot interrupts, shouting to be heard over the whir of the mini siren light on the dash. "If we don't get there soon, Cragen's gonna be in trouble." He exhales and cringes. "Big trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Munch asks, peering over his glasses at the younger detective. "We jumped up to make sure Liv wasn't heading into the fire alone, but we need to know what kind of flames we're up against, here, Stabler."

Elliot takes another breath, wipes a heavy hand down his face and pulls on his loosened tie. "He found Porter...and he's...fuck, if we don't get there before him, he's gonna kill the bastard."

"What?" Fin snaps, his wide eyes whip from Olivia to Elliot and back again. "What the fuck are you slowin' down for, Benson, step on it!"

Olivia rolls her eyes but pushes the car to go faster. She weaves in and out of traffic, changes lanes and dodges anyone who attempts to cut her off. She eyes Elliot carefully before focusing back on the road. "What happened? What the hell did he say to you?"

"He said," Elliot starts, but then stops to rub his bleary eyes and take another deep breath. "Jesus, I thought I knew where Porter was, but when I got there…" he shakes his head. Another deep sigh, and he says, "There was a message for me at the desk. Cragen fucking knew I was gonna go after the asshole. He told me it wasn't my fight. That my job was to protect my wife and kids...and he was the one who had to protect us."

Munch makes an odd grunting noise and says, "And them what? Why the hell are we trying to make a five hour trip in forty-five minutes, because with Benson driving, if I die in this car…"

"Shut up, John!" Olivia shouts, hiding a chuckle because it's not time for laughs.

Elliot smirks but rubs his chin. "He, uh, he said he found Porter. He knew that Porter was hiding out in the house we…" he smiled and looked down at his left hand. His heart thumped against his chest. "Our gig, upstate. Cragen said he was gonna drive up there and end this, that no one plays games with his kids, and that Porter had to pay for pitting us against each other." He turns around and looks over his shoulder at Munch. "I know Don Cragen, man, I know what that means. I'm not gonna let him…"

"None of us are," Munch nods. He rests a hand on Elliot's shoulder and squeezes. When he leans back he realizes how much he's been paying attention to the younger detectives for the last four years. He hides a small, soft smile behind his weathered hand as he thinks about the million signs he'd missed, the ways they'd always looked at each other with a light in their eyes that meant something, the little jokes and teasing jabs that had been designed to hide intense attraction and deep love. He shakes his head wondering what kind of detective misses things that are so obvious.

The four of them ignore the honking horns and screeching tires as Olivia drives like a madwoman, flying up the highway at a clip that would have certainly made headlines under any other circumstances.

Elliot points a finger and says, "Baby, you have to…"

"I know!" she snaps as she turns the wheel. They squeal as she narrowly takes the exit, and then she grins. "I know where I'm going. How the fuck could I forget?"

With a chuckle, Elliot slips his hand over her knee and squeezes. "I know, babe." He sighs and sends up a prayer, asking that they make it time, that they can head Cragen off and prevent him from making a huge mistake. One that would tear the unit apart, which is what Porter wants, anyway. He sighs and grips her thigh as she drives, and he holds his breath as familiar sights roll into view.

The café in which they'd spent every morning talking and doing necessary surveillance. The park that held memories of morning runs, moonlight walks, dancing under the stars when they'd known they were being watched but pretended that it hadn't mattered. The complex, still vacant and wrapped in yellow crime scene tape, where everything had boiled over and had come crashing down and had ended the one job they'd hoped would never be over. Finally, the big, bright, beautiful house that kept their secrets safe and sound.

He exhales as Olivia parks, and the four detectives leap out of the maroon Ford, leaving doors open and lights on, drawing guns, slinking silently toward the front door. He reaches to keep Olivia from knocking but she raises a hand and shoots him a look. He narrows his eyes and watches as she pulls a silver heart-shaped keychain out of her pocket, a single brass key dangling from it. "You…" he whispers, but he loses his words as she slips the key into the lock and turns as quietly as she can, opening the door.

Fin doesn't question it, he doesn't have to, he simply follows the two people in front of him, keeping his gun trained and ready. He looks around as they move noiselessly through the living room. The room is filled with expensive furniture and priceless antiques. Some of the picture frames are still housing photos of Olivia and Elliot, and he isn't entirely convinced they're staged. He mumbles something about never getting the good gigs, shakes his head, and continues following Olivia and Elliot.

Olivia stops, lifts a hand, and turns to Elliot. Voices carry, they're heard through the walls, and they nod at each other as they round the corner, taking Munch and Fin through the lavish kitchen and into the study.

"Enough," Elliot calls out, and it's enough to make both Porter and Cragen freeze.

The men slowly turn and they give similar dejected expressions as they come face to face with four angry cops and their aimed weapons. Porter is the first to move, with both hands over his head, and he sinks to one of the leather chairs.

Cragen lowers his own gun and backs away, stepping toward Olivia and Elliot. "I told you," he glares at Elliot, there's a blend of anger, pain, and pride in his eyes. "I would handle this."

"And I told you I wasn't gonna let you throw your life away on this piece of shit," Elliot tells him, his gun aimed at Porter but his eyes on Cragen. "What happened, here?"

"Just talking," Porter says too quickly. "I'm...not hurt. No one got hurt, but if you'd have shown up any later…"

"Shut up," Olivia barks. "It's over, Dean. Your partner gave you up. Everything you've been trying to do…" she shakes her head. "For what? Because we left out a few details of…"

"I need to know!" Porter yells as he stands fast. He hears the cocking of four guns and he relents, sitting again, and he sighs as he sits back down. "I need to know...how this all fucking happened. I brought you in on this to help me get the son of a bitch, I thought we'd bag him and go home, ya know...together." He darts his eyes from her to Elliot and back again. "I need to know how you got Calderone without me, and how you two came back from this…" he juts out a hand and shakes his head dismissively as he whines. "You fucking married him, Olivia? You weren't even together, haven't been with him long enough, and you're married and having his fucking child? I gave you time...so much time...and you never even wanted anything more than a casual thing with me, so I need to know, please. How the fuck...what the fuck happened in this house. I need to know everything."

Cragen blinks once and says, "Matter of fact, so do I."

Elliot lowers his gun, exhales, and he looks to Olivia for some sort of permission. He reaches over and takes her hand, and then he looks at Cragen. "I don't even know where to start."

Cragen plops onto the nearest chair and says, "From the beginning."

**A/N: The full story...next...**


	57. Chapter 57

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Well, uh," Elliot sighs and turns around, looking at Fin and Munch apologetically. "You, uh, you two probably shouldn't hear any of this. We don't even have the all-clear to tell them, so we don't want to put you in a position to…"

"What we don't know can't hurt us, right," Munch says, and he lowers his gun, slaps Fin on the arm, and leads him out through the elegant dining room, back to the waiting car.

Elliot clears his throat, licks his lips, shakes his head. "I can't... there are a few details I am not allowed to…"

"Stabler, I'm probably spending the next few years of my life in federal lockup for evidence tampering and conspiracy, here," Porter interrupts with a heavy growl. "No one would believe me if I fucking told them you told me, so just...out with it! Do me this one favor, please! I threw a career and a lifetime away on her," he throws a hand toward Olivia, "I need to know why!"

Olivia drops into the chair beside Elliot, takes his hand, and then looks at Porter. "None of this has anything to do with you," she tells him, and she swallows the urge to yell and throw the nearest Faberge egg at him for all the trouble he's caused in the last year. "You didn't factor into any of this, not as anything other than someone we were working with." She raises a finger and narrows her eyes. "With, not for, so we don't really owe you explanations or apologies."

Porter rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fully aware you give less than a shit about me, just...what the fuck happened in this house, Olivia?" He looks at her as though he's trying not to cry. Maybe he is. He realizes at this moment that years ago, he'd let himself completely fall in love with a woman he could never have, and the bitterness festered into resentment, and then obsession, and it cost him everything. "Please," he whispers.

Olivia cringes as the desperation in his eyes; she recognizes it. It's the same anguish that used to live in hers, it seems like a lifetime ago, when she was just as hopelessly in love with an impossibility. She looks to her left and there he is, he's hers, all hers. She squeezes his hand again and says, "We might as well."

Elliot rubs his eyes, exhales sharply, and nods. And then he starts:

_The first day, uh, wasn't really unusual. We got here around ten in the morning, made our way to the cafe where we knew, uh, Calderone liked to choose his couples. We played it up, ya know? Flirted like crazy, tried to seem convincing. It was so fucking easy, because without anyone reminding me how wrong it was, I couldn't keep my hands off of her. _

He grins and chuckles, then loops his free hand around her waist, ignoring the emotion-filled looks he's getting from Cragen and Porter. He kisses her forehead and then her cheeks, and then her lips. "I still can't," he whispers.

Porter snaps, then, folding his arms. "Oh, get on with it! When I said from the beginning, I didn't mean…"

"Jesus," Elliot shuts him up. "Shit, you wanted the whole damn story, that's what you're getting."

Cragen stifles a laugh and then nods at Elliot. Part of him is relishing in the honesty and the surprising amount of innocence in Elliot's words. "Go ahead, son," he says.

_We left the cafe after we were sure we'd done enough to bait the bastard, and by the time we got to this house, we were so tired...no, exhausted. It was, um, raining...we only ran from the car to the door, that driveway is fucking huge, and we were soaked. I, um...I headed for the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels, I was gonna go change into dry clothes, but then this asshole over here reminded me we were probably already being watched, so I had to play the part. I, uh, I rolled my eyes, because I knew how much trouble I was about to get myself into, and I took Liv's hand, pulled her closer to the window, let the son of a bitch watch, if he was, while I ran a towel over her hair, dried her off, God, I remember...my hands were shaking. _

He looks down. They're shaking now, too. He smiles, clears his throat, and continues his story.

_I couldn't...I had to stop, ya know? I handed her the towel and walked off, changed, gave her space to do the same. Porter left, we ordered a pizza...a really fucking bad pizza, and then we just...walked around the house. We started talking about...what it would be like, ya know, if that was really our place. A bunch of kids filling the bedrooms, throwing parties for stupid reasons just because we had two ovens and a ballroom. We took a nap, in the same bed, for obvious reasons, and God, it was so fucking hard for me to sleep knowing that someone had his sights set on us. On her. _

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and takes a deep breath.

_When we finally got up, we drove out to the grocery store, because one, we needed food, and two, we had to make sure Calderone was following us. He was. His red Ferrari was right behind us the whole time, and while we were shopping, he tailed us down every aisle. We pretended not to notice, gave him every reason to think we were this sickeningly adorable couple, and every so often I'd kiss her, touch her in a way that let the son of a bitch know that we had, uh, a pretty active sex life. _

He laughs again, brushes his hand over his chin, and he looks over at Olivia. "I told you, it wasn't just because…"

"I know," she says, dropping her head to his.

_We got back to the house and I told her I wanted to cook, um, with her. I poured us a couple of glasses of wine, we made probably the best chicken piccata I've ever had, and then...we, um, we knew his timeline, ya know? We had to give him a reason to invite us to one of his parties, so I turned up the stereo, led her into the middle of the living room floor, right in front of the window, and we danced. For two hours. _

He leaves out the romance, the part where he admits he loves her, where he tells her he wants to be her everything, makes promises he'd not yet been allowed to make.

_I kissed her, let the bastard watch it happen, and I knew he was making a lot of observations so I pulled her toward the bedroom, let him think...ya know, what he thought...and we just...went to sleep. The next morning, there was a fruit basket and bottle of wine on the porch, the same wine we'd been drinking the night before so we had our proof that he was watching us. It came with an invitation, a time and place for what was called "a night of no restrictions, no inhibitions, and no privacy."_

_We called Porter, told him we made contact and got hooked, he sent over clothes and bugged jewelry. Her earrings and my cufflinks, we were told to do what we had to do, record everything, and if we needed help we had code words. We spent the day running through our act, what we would have to do and we agreed to do it, how far we'd have to go, if we were ready for it...what we would do if we got into trouble. I promised her I wouldn't let that happen, then we got dressed and walked over to the house. His place was, uh, more eccentric than this one, he flaunted his wealth in the gaudiest ways, but he welcomed us into his little club with open arms. _

_It was hard to ignore the people around us, man, there was so much sin going on. Couples fucking in the middle of open rooms, threesomes happening on floors, against walls. One, uh, pretty vulgar orgy took over the patio, the pool. _

He shakes the disturbing images from his mind, blinks away the awkward arousal.

_He told us since we were new, we had options. Watch, join, or have a room to ourselves. We knew what that meant. He wanted us alone, he wanted to watch us, see what kind of prey we'd make. We knew that was what we needed to do, so we told him we'd mingle for a bit then find him when we were, uh, ready to play. _

_He handed us two glasses of wine, we know now that they were always spiked with something...stronger. We drank and tried to fit in, pretended to enjoy the taboo of it all, I even struck up a conversation with one of Calderone's goons, told him I was heavy into BDSM and Liv was a good little pet, laid it on thick, used a lot of the shit we hear at work to make it believable. _

_We, uh, we were really getting uncomfortable, so we called it a night, after that, but we both knew...he was in one of his rooms, watching us leave, watching us walk away. We knew he was watching through a telescope or binoculars, whatever, and that he'd be expecting us to…_

"So you faked it for him, again?" Cragen asked, raising an eyebrow, wondering how fake it was, really. "I don't need those details, okay, he watched your alter egos have sex, again, but when did it get dangerous? How did you get out of it? That's the part I need to hear."

_He invited us back the next night. And the night after that. The invitation always came with wine and breakfast. Shit, this man threw these parties every night, and who knows how many of his guests would have ended up in his shackles if he wasn't already fixed on us? We had to keep him focused on us, so we went back, every time he sent for us. Each time, we got more and more invested in the job, and in each other. We knew he needed to see us getting into it. Getting comfortable. So we played into the voyeurism, hung out in the main room, hid in the corner, made it look like we were fooling around while watching the show. One night, he had a table for us set up in the corner, and he just kept sending us more wine, and we kept drinking it, knowing it's what he expected. We knew he was trying to loosen us up enough to get ourselves mixed up with the swingers, but she told me she suddenly had a really bad headache, felt sick. I got her out of there, thanked Calderone for his hospitality, and took her home. _

Porter scoffed. "That's the night I told you you were taking it too far, right? Told you to back the fuck off, but then what'd you do? You ignore me, disregard my orders, go to another fucking party and he winds up dead! Not in my books, not in a box, not behind bars, but dead! How the fuck did that happen?"

Cragen sees the need for respite in Olivia's eyes, rehashing the details is making her incredibly uncomfortable. "Do you need to stop? Take a break?"

Elliot shakes his head. "If I don't tell you now, I'm not going to tell you at all, so," he shrugs, turns and kisses Olivia, and he smiles. "This part's not so bad."

_It took longer than we'd anticipated, maybe we were losing him, so we tried to relax and bait him again. Our days were spent in the cafe, trying to stay calm, then hanging around the house and acting, uh, normal. I got used to it all, calling her my wife...living as though she really was, it became so real, it wasn't pretend anymore, and I was planning on telling her that. Telling her the truth, I wanted to tell Porter we were backing out because I was about to cross a line that I didn't want to cross just because of a job. I didn't get the chance to do any of that, though. Our last night here, Calderone sent us another invitation. This time, the party wasn't at his house, it was at some garden estate a mile away. He sent a car for us, so we knew this was the night he planned to take us. When we got there, we were told to change, he gave us a couple of silk robes and pointed to an empty room. _

_We did as we were told, but Liv kept her earrings on, just in case. He led us to a room, there was an indoor pool, a hot tub, it was steaming, fucking hot as hell in there. He told us to sit, had a man in a white suit bring us two glasses of wine and a tray of oysters. He sat with us for a while, asked us a lot of questions about who we were, what we liked in bed, what we thought of his little club and if we were ready to become official members. He warned us that there would be some sort of initiation, but we didn't need to be afraid, it would be the most pleasurable experience of our lives. _

Porter shook his head. "As much as I hate hearing this, I need to hear everything. How far did you really have to go? You said she had her earrings in, but I couldn't hear a fucking thing, that's why I fucking went in after you!"

_Yeah, uh, he made us join the party in the pool, they got wet and I guess they shorted out. But we tried to stay out of the fray for the most part. I did a pretty damn good job of keeping her to myself, which must have annoyed him, because he pulled us out of the pool, told us we either had to start to play by his rules or we'd be asked to leave. He told us we could take some time to ourselves, but eventually, we'd be expected to, uh, play with our new friends. _

_We knew we were running out of time, so we went for it. I told Calderone I just needed to get her going, she was shy, but after a good fuck, she'd be ready for anything. He laughed, said he knew that's what the problem was, and he handed me a key and led us to a room on the third floor. Shit, it was dark, lit with these red light bulbs, and I knew it was only to conceal the blinking red lights of the cameras. He told us to have fun, and when we were ready, we could join in on some of the other, uh, activities. That he'd be waiting for us. _

_I was rough with her, I had to be, but she knew it was out of necessity and I tried to keep it respectful. I won't give you details, but now, I can say this out loud, none of it was a fucking act, it was just us...with the help of whatever he put in that wine...letting go, letting ourselves do what we'd wanted to do for years, and if it helped us bag a bad guy, the icing on the cake, ya know? _

Cragen's breath hitched, Porter let out a growl, Olivia sighed softly and ran a hand over the swell of her stomach.

He can't bring himself to tell the full story, not out loud, but he remembers so vividly the way her moans had filled the room. Her cries of his name are ringing in his ears as he recalls kissing her madly, thrusting his fingers into her, making her cum, making her forget how much fucking trouble they'd been in. He remembers moving down her perfect body, he still feels his heart hammering in his chest the way it did when he tasted her for the first time, he still feels her hands grip his head and scratch at his scalp. He feels her pulse on his tongue, feels her cumming again, for him. He recalls the way he'd whispered how much he loved her, how real it was for him, how he never wanted to stop kissing her, loving her. He remembers crawling back up and laughing with her, brushing her hair back, and he recalls how he had shifted his weight, positioned himself directly at her hot core, had looked down into her eyes, he still sees the way she'd stared at him, the way she'd nodded, the way he'd almost been inside of her all the way for the first time, and the way he didn't fucking care who the hell was watching.

He blinks and suddenly he's back in the study, Cragen's staring, waiting. Porter is fuming, seething. Olivia is right beside him, holding his hand, carrying his child. He takes a breath, he sniffles once.

_I guess he got tired of waiting for us, he barged into the room with two other guys, armed. They threw our clothes at us, told us to get dressed, and then forced us down the stairs to another room. It was off to the side of the place, its own entrance. Solid stone, a lot of sex toys all over the place, this huge swing, a rack, the shit that we usually take into evidence, ya know? Calderone sent his guys out of the room, said he didn't want witnesses, and then he, uh, he walked right up to us. He looked at her first, then looked at me with this fucking shit-eating grin, and he said, "I hope you had fun tonight, Detective Stabler, because it was your last night on Earth." _

_Every ounce of training I have, fuck, it flew right out the window, because my only concern at that point was Olivia. I pushed her back, behind me, and we got as far away from him as we could. I asked him who the hell told him who we were, and he laughed at me, said it was a secret. He reached over to one of the benches and grabbed an electric prod, he turned it on, made sure we knew it was real by tapping it against a pipe and the sparks...the smell…_

He shakes his head.

"Oh, my God," Cragen whispers, his face pale, pure white.

Porter is silent, as if he already knows this part. He does.

Elliot pulls Olivia closer to him, kisses her again, and then takes a deep breath.

_I felt her moving behind me, knew that she was fishing around in her purse for her gun. I kept my eyes on Calderone as I tried to get my gun out of my pocket, I will never understand how or why no one checked our clothes when he realized who we were, but I'm so fucking thankful no one did. I got a good grip on my piece, and I waited until he made a move. He said something...something that didn't make sense then, but, fuck, it does now. He said he'd promised his friend he'd let Olivia go, but thought that, after watching us together, it would be more fun to kill her, right in front of me, and he'd just have to tell his spy the plans changed. He held out the prod in one hand, he had a long blade in the other, a tool for the more sadistic types, ya know? He got closer, and he poked me with the prod, I guess he thought it would hurt me enough to get me out of the way, but it didn't even phase me. He lunged at me again, and that's when...we both raised our guns and shot the son of a bitch. _

Cragen wipes the tears off of his face, the story is unexpectedly terrifying and beautiful. "Well, uh, now…" he clears his throat. "What Calderone said, someone told him? Tipped him off, broke your cover. You said it makes sense, now, you figured it out?"

Elliot nods, stands, and he readies his hand at the grip of his gun. "Yeah, uh, it hit me...when I remembered Calderone using the word _spy_. Calderone was a fetishist, Cap. He would romanticize things, make them sound more intriguing and erotic, the way he would call a cheese sandwich _pain de fromage_ and a glass of water was _purity on the rocks. _He was the kind of guy who would instantly turn the word _agent_ into _spy." _

Olivia gasps and Cragen rises with a start as Elliot suddenly turns and aims his gun at Porter. "I was gonna do this, that night, when I figured it the fuck out, but then I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, it was your case you wouldn't blow it that way."

Porter chuckles. "Yeah, it was my case, Stabler. Mine! I didn't drag you and your partner into it to get the glory! Fuck, I didn't even want you! I wanted Benson, she was supposed to be my wife, we were supposed to get the bastard, her, with me! Me! Not you! Fuck, and then I find out that you two were really fucking the whole time? I knew I had to get you out of the way. I let it slip to Calderone who you were, but I didn't give up Benson, he told you the truth. He was supposed to let her go, and then I was supposed to barge in and save her, nail the asshole, add your murder to the list of charges, but no. You two always have to do things the fucking hard way!"

"You realize you just confessed," Olivia says, now standing beside Elliot with her own gun raised.

"Yeah," Porter chuckles, "In front of a disgraced Captain and two detectives who have every reason in the world to lie and frame me." He folds his hands smugly. "No one would ever…"

"I recorded the entire thing," Cragen says, smirking. He holds up his cell and shrugs. "Turned on my phone as soon as Munch and Fin left the room. I knew I needed to make this an official statement, cover their asses. And mine."

"For the record," Olivia starts, "We weren't fucking the whole time, we weren't even…" she blushes. "We were working. Nothing got personal until we came home." She grins and says, "And I really married him."

Elliot chuckles, noting the lie, but he shrugs. "Spousal privilege, we don't have to tell you anything else." He lowers and holsters his gun as he moves. "Except this. Dean Porter, you have the right…"

"I know my rights," Porter spits, and he grimaces as Elliot slaps a pair of cuffs on him and clamps them a bit too tightly. "Tell me one last thing," he says lowly, looking over his shoulder. "Was she worth it? What I was fighting for, would I have been…"

"She's worth everything," Elliot hisses, "To me. She's mine, always has been, always will be. She told you that, even when you were seeing her, it was me she…"

"I could have changed her mind, I just needed to take you down," Porter grumbles, and he shakes his head. "You can't hold me. You tried once, my badge is more powerful than yours. I'm gonna get outta this."

Olivia slips her gun into her side holster and chuckles. "You set us up, you fed us to a serial killer, you're not getting out of this one." She eyes Cragen as Elliot drags porter through the house that changed his life, and she sighs. "You really got that all on tape?"

"Every word," Cragen nods. "Every heartbreaking word. You two really didn't just use this gig as an excuse, things really happened…"

"Yeah," Olivia bites her lip and nods. "I mean, no, a lot happened years ago, but we...gave up fighting it, in this house. We tried to let it go when the case was done, but...clearly, it followed us home."

Cragen shakes his head. "No, you two...you didn't give up fighting, at all. You fought to hold onto it, and now...you're fighting for this little guy." He pokes a finger into her stomach. "You and Elliot...you're a force to be reckoned with. You're like soldiers. Toy soldiers. Unbreakable, unstoppable, and no matter who's trying...you'll never fall down." He hugs her and lets out a sigh, then leads her away from the study, through the dining room, the living room, out of the doors, and toward the car that will take them home from Syracuse one last time.

**A/N: Is it over?**


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

Elliot had been right; the air _was_ different in Syracuse. Her lungs had started to burn as soon as they drove over the bridge back onto the island, Manhattan's dark-roast smog had filled them, choked her, made her long to go back to a life that was never hers to live. When they'd walked back into the squadroom, she'd watched Elliot and two federal agents take Porter into the interrogation room, leaving her alone in the bullpen. She's made three cups of coffee, each time forgetting she can't drink it, so they've just been piling up in random spots around the room as she makes herself busy. She takes another breath, wincing at the smells of the stale coffee, musty dampness, and industrial cleaner. She shakes her head and walks, her heels clicking against the tiles, toward her desk.

Her hand runs over the surface, she feels every crack in the metal and splinter in the wood, she remembers how each and every scar got there. The time he'd thrown a stapler at her and she failed to catch it, when he lost the key to his side of the locked filing cabinet so she used a bobby pin and a pocket knife to open it, a night when he lost his temper with a perp in the box and slammed his fist down onto the top of it leaving a lumpy crater in its wake. Four years of dents and dings, for various reasons, marring what was once a brand new piece of furniture.

"I know that look," Cragen's voice hits her ears, and she smiles sadly without turning to look at him. She sighs and says, "You can't even…"

"I know it," he tells her again, and he walks toward her, his hands in his pockets. He inhales, clears his throat, and he says, "The look that says you're trying to hide the fact that you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. You're focused on something no one else would think important, your left eyebrow is flat, the right one's angled, your lips are twisted to one side…" he shrugs. "How close am I?"

She turns to him, finally, face frozen in the exact portrait he'd just painted. "You tell me," she shrugs, offering a slight laugh.

Cragen bites his lip and takes another step, one hand fiddles with some loose pocket change, the other twirls his thirteen-year chip around in his fingers like a magician's coin. "How much of what he told me was true?"

She blinks once, her shallow breath hitches, one hand shoots to her stomach. For a moment, she thinks she'll be sick, but she takes a slow, deep inhalation and she lets it out like she's blowing out a candle. She blinks a few times, swallows hard, then looks at Cragen. "All of it," she says with her lip caught between her teeth. She can't deny it, she wouldn't deny any of it now. "Everything he said was…"

"And how much did he leave out?" Cragen's eyes flicker, he takes another step forward, but something in her eyes gives him pause. There's a flash of familiarity in them, something he hasn't seen since before he lost his wife. He squints, almost trying to discern if it's there or if he's imagining it. He almost can't remember what it is, he knows there's a name for it, he tries like hell to dig it out from the corrupted files of his memory. It hits him, he leans against the side of Elliot's desk, and he says, "He told you he was in love with you when you were under, didn't he?"

"Not in so many words," she says, and she seethes as she realizes she's still chewing on her lip. Her voice drops, so does her gaze. "Maybe." She hears his voice, the way he says _I want to be the guy, Liv. I am the guy. I swear I am. _"I guess he did," she admits. She shakes her head, her left hand pulls at the straining fabric of her shirt. "I think we just...ignored it." She sucks her lip back between her nipping teeth, a nervous habit she's finding hard to break. "We had to ignore it."

"Until you couldn't," Cragen tilts his head and sighs again. "Did you, um, did you pick out names?" He pulls his left hand out of his pocket and leans over, pokes her in the belly, gives her a smile that screams _grandpa_.

She shakes her head. "Elliot, um...says he wants to wait until we're sure if it's a boy or a girl to decide. But he also tells me he wants to be surprised, so I guess we're not naming it until I have it, and we're calling it Baby Stabler for the next seven months." She hears Cragen laugh, watches his light up in a way she's never seen, and she says, "Thank you, I mean it, but...you don't have to do this."

"Do what?" Cragen's head tilts, it's his turn to bite his lip.

She sighs as she refocuses, staring across the room at the archway leading toward the interrogation room. "Distract me," she says on a breath. "I know who he's in there with, I know what he's saying...what he's asking, what Porter's probably telling him," she blinks twice. " know why I'm not in there, trust me, I'm safer out here." She scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. "Shouldn't you be watching him?"

"Not allowed," he says with a firm nod. "What happened tonight, uh, wasn't an official read in. It was just a ploy to get Porter to confess, I'm still not allowed to know...why part of you never came home."

Her head pops up, her eyes speed toward his. "What?" she asks, and she isn't sure she can stop herself from getting sick this time. She takes a deep breath, wavers slightly as she tries to straighten up, and she takes Cragen's arm when it's offered to her. "I'm okay, I just…"

"She needs to eat," Elliot calls as he rushes over to his desk. He pulls open his top drawer, whips out a package of Pop-Tarts, a granola bar, a banana, and a juice box. "Baby, sit," he says, forgetting Cragen is right there. He settles Olivia in her seat, opens the granola bar for her, and while she chomps into it, he stabs the straw through the foil hole on the box of juice. "Here," he says sweetly, and he smiles as she takes it from him.

Cragen gives him an odd look. "You always have all of that shit in your desk?"

"Uh, hi, have we met?" Elliot jokes with a snort. "There's also a box of Cheez-Its and a package of Oreos in the bottom drawer on the…"

"A package of what?" The question comes out muffled, thanks to her granola filled mouth. Her eyes are severe, she's giving him the glare that was once only reserved for Kathy.

He laughs and moves, shaking his head in amusement, and he pulls open his bottom drawer to get her the cookies she so darkly demanded. He peels the blue foil packaging back and holds them out to her, blowing her a kiss when she wraps her fingers around three of the chocolate cream sandwiches. "You are so fucking cute," he tells her, and he means it.

"Just because you fed me, don't think it means I'm ignoring the fact that you have blood on your shirt and swollen knuckles," she works out as she bites into a cookie. "What happened?" she asks as she chews. She lets her eyes wander over him, his unbuttoned collar, wrinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up past the elbows. It makes her want him, worry for him, love him. She swallows and prods him before he can leave without answering. "Do not piss off your pregnant wife."

He smirks at her, then closes his eyes. "He said…" he stops, then he walks back over to her, drops to his knees in front of her, and he reaches for the hand that isn't currently bringing her cookie to her mouth. "It doesn't matter what he said, or did, or tried to do, okay? He didn't do anything to us, we are...better than we have ever fucking been, and...before I punched him, I thanked him."

"For fucking what?" she snaps, making sure no bits of chocolate wafer fly out of her mouth as her eyes widen in near-fury.

He chuckles as he squeezes her hand, brings it to his lips, kisses each knuckle, and then looks into her eyes again. His entire world is floating between layers of dark brown and gold, shimmering in the marbled irises he fell in love with the moment he fell into them. "Baby, he...he dragged us into that case, and if he didn't...maybe we'd still be waiting for each other. I'd be watching your life with that fucking trainer unfold, maybe I'd still be figuring out how to tell Kathy I didn't…" he sniffles, it's the only way he knows now that he's crying. He wipes his eyes with her fingers, kissing them again as he drags them down her face, and he says, "I thanked him for making it so fucking easy, for telling us we didn't have to wait anymore." He drops her hand and then loops one hand around the back of her neck, and rests the other on her stomach. "He gave me you, Liv. He was trying to fucking rip you away from me, but he...he gave me you."

Cragen watches Elliot move in and he closes his eyes and turns his head, giving them the respect the moment deserves. When he's sure they're done kissing, he turns back to Elliot. "So what did Agent McAllister say? They taking him, or are we?"

"Dean Porter is now the responsibility of the United States Federal Government," Elliot says with a smirk. He sniffles as he gets to his feet, smiles lovingly at the way Olivia cries the last of her tears into her cookies, and he says, "Witness tampering, evidence tampering, conspiracy, blackmail, assaulting an officer...and attempted murder." He shakes his head, folds his arms, "We're never dealing with him again, and he's done fucking playing with us." He gives Cragen a long, hard stare, then a slow blink. "Thanks," he says. "You, uh, you really came through for us, tonight, and I…"

"Marry her," Cragen speaks, and he isn't prepared for the shocked look he gets in return. He looks over at Olivia, who has one hand draped over her stomach and the other picking the corners off of a Pop-Tart. "Marry her, Elliot."

"Cap, uh," Elliot lowers his voice and turns his eyes up at his captain. "I'm not sure if you forgot, but…"

"I gave you shit for it," Cragen cuts in, "Made the two of you feel like you were breaking some sort of law, shamed you into calling in a favor from a judge who hates you half the time," he clears his throat. "You do this, Elliot, the right way. You ask her again, you rent a hall, you hire a limo, she picks out a dress that makes her look like an angel, you were a tux that makes you look like James Bond, and you marry her." He nods once. "Before she has that baby, understand?"

"What...I mean, that would be amazing, but I thought you were still…" Elliot pauses, he knows how to tell when something's up, it's what makes him a good fucking cop, and he crosses his arms again. "What do you want?"

Cragen inhales slowly, deeply, and he smiles at Elliot the way he imagines he would smile at his own son. "I want to walk her down the aisle, give her to you," he turns to her again, the tears spring to his eyes and he whispers, "With my blessing."

Elliot is stunned into absolute silence. He barely blinks as Cragen looks to him for an answer, and he does the only thing he can think of to do.

He nods.

**A/N: Wedding? Baby? Maybe. **


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

_It's over._

The words reply in her head, ring in her ears, in an unfamiliar voice that gives her chills. She's staring out the window, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting. She makes it a point to feel the floor beneath her, ground herself in the harsh reality for which she fears she needs to prepare herself. She wriggles her toes, the thick fibers curl between and around her toes, it reminds her so much of nights in Syracuse. Nights when she couldn't sleep, when she paced the living room because she couldn't control herself in the bed with Elliot. She feels the full weight of the world fall onto her shoulders, a thick and heavy feeling in her stomach that has nothing to do with the baby.

_The baby._

"Holy shit," she mumbles to herself, as if it has just dawned on her that she's pregnant. Maybe it has. In the whirlwind the last year has been, it's taken her this long to realize it's not just part of the act. The case is officially over, she's still married to Elliot, carrying his child, raising the other kids like they were hers. The case is officially closed, and she's still standing in the living room, the same walls and windows, the same stucco pattern on the ceiling. The case is _fucking closed _and she walks around the house in the middle of the night because it still feels like she's under, like it's all pretend, like it's all going to be ripped away from her in a minute. In an hour. In a day. She doesn't know when, but she can _feel it_ because she's convinced herself that she just doesn't _get _the happy ending.

It's the view from where she's standing, the trees and the lawn, the quiet street, that has her confused. This is not the Manhattan she's used to; this is the Manhattan she once criticized for thinking it was too good for the city, the upscale gentrification, the nose in the air. The peace and quiet. The family atmosphere. The good schools. She blinks once and runs her hand over the swell of her belly, she swears she can feel the baby's heartbeat even though it's only the size of a plum and it's impossible.

_Maternal instinct._

She remembers her mother saying that on the phone, telling her that she's always had a sixth sense, was always compassionate and intuitive, had incredible instincts, and would have impeccable maternal ones. She thinks it's all bullshit because if she had such great intuition, she would have seen this coming a mile away instead of having it completely take her by surprise. Her hand rolls over her stomach again, she blinks at the carless, noiseless street once more, and then backs away hoping to make it upstairs before he realizes she's gone.

"Everything okay?" he asks, as soon as she turns away from the window his arms are around her. He kisses her forehead, eyes closed.

She nods against his lips. "I was just…"

"Thinking too loudly," he tells her, and he smiles at her while he loops his fingers around her hands. "Come with me for a minute," he demands, and he pulls her backward, into the kitchen.

The ceramic tile is cold under her feet now, and she gasps lightly with every step. Her eyes roam, taking in the cream and mint wallpaper, the light oak cabinets, marble countertops. Everything they had in Syracuse, including two ovens. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he chuckles, and he holds her hand tighter as he pushes the back door open.

"It's three in the morning," she bemoans, "And it's freezing! What the hell are you…" her words stop when she sees what he's done. The fire pit is lit, there's a small radio on the deck and she knows what song is playing by the first note that hits her ears. She looks at him, his shirtless body glows in the firelight, his flannel pants have never looked more like Armani. "What are you doing?"

He smirks and pulls her close. "Dance with me," he whispers. He wraps one arm around her back, slips it under her grey tank top, and rests his head against hers as he starts swaying with her. He hums the song, right in her ear.

The frost around her heart and feet melts, she nuzzles him and whispers, "We could have done this inside."

"Can't figure out how to light the fireplace in there," he says with a small laugh. "We needed a fireplace for this."

"For what?" Her head tilts, she feels him pull back. The look he's giving her makes every single hair on her body stand on end, she feels every nerve start to vibrate. "Oh, my God," she exhales, she knows she's turning white.

He doesn't know what she's thinking, but he brings her left hand to his lips and kisses her rings. "You want kids, a lot of them," he whispers to her. He watches her eyes flicker. "You could never make it past a third date because you couldn't stop thinking about…" he chuckles. "Well, me, but you didn't tell me that the first time." He brushes his lips over hers. "You said you were waiting for _the guy_. I want to be the guy. I am the guy, baby." He kisses her tenderly, the song rings through the air to surround them in memory. "I swear I am," he says, with his lips so close to hers she can feel the words before she hears them.

Her breath hitches. "You are," she whispers back to him. She laughs when he spins her, pulls her into him again, and then when he dips her, she looks up at him and falls in love with him all over again. "What are you doing, you goofball?" she chuckles, and she kisses his nose, and then his lips.

He keeps her bent low, kisses her back eagerly, but he's not laughing. When he pulls away from her, he is smiling, but staring into her eyes. And he answers her. "I'm proposing."

The freeze hits her again. She's gazing up at him, stunned, she couldn't straighten up if she wanted to, and she doesn't blink.

"Baby," he lifts her up and pulls her close, then sits on the wicker lawn chair behind him. He settles her onto his lap, wraps his arms around her, and rests both of his hands on her stomach. "I didn't ask. Not the way...not the way I wanted to, or the way you deserved." He draws circles on her swell with his fingertips. "I didn't really give you a chance to think about...um, if this isn't what you want. If it never was. I couldn't take it if you ran, or if you walked away from me…" he blinks. "If you didn't love me." He feels his nerves kicking in, his heart racing, his knees bouncing. He slides one hand away from her belly to dig into his pocket. "Liv, you...you have been my rock, my whole world, for so long." He lets the chain dangle from his fingers, the pendant sparkling in the light of the flames. "I don't know where I end and where you begin, we think the same, we have the same sense of humor, I know what you're gonna do before you do it and you're the same way with me."

"Yeah," she breathes, one of her hands smooths over his knee to stop it from shaking and she maneuvers herself, lifting one leg and swiveling around to straddle him. "I am. Usually. I didn't know you were gonna do this," she laughs to keep from crying. She helps him put the necklace on her, and she stares down at the stunning heart-shaped diamond.

He keeps his head pressed to hers, one hand stays on her stomach as the other scoops behind her neck to latch the clasp. "I have fought for you, killed for you...I would die for you and the kids. _Our_ kids." He kisses the end of her nose. "I knew from the first night in Syracuse with you, I knew that I never wanted to live without you. If you think we made some kind of mistake here…" he swallows the golf ball-sized lump in his throat. "I saw the way you were staring out the window. I know what that look in your eyes means, I've seen in enough. If you want out…" he can't finish the sentence

She cups his face and shakes her head. "You do realize how absolutely insane you sound, don't you?" She kisses his chin. "I'm gonna wake up, thinking I'm dreaming, because I have never been this happy. I was scared, because I thought that finally dotting the last 'i' of the case that brought us together would…" she shrugs. "But you just reassured me that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be, it's not a mistake, it's not an accident, it's not just pretend. Like you keep telling me, it never was." Her lips brush his slightly. "Wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?"

He laughs and nods, their foreheads rub together, and he whispers, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispers back, and she moves just enough to press her lips to his. It begins as a sweet, emotional kiss, but when his hands slide up under her tank top and she rocks into him, it becomes so much more.

He leans back and rears forward, lifting her as he rises. He blindly smacks the radio, turning it off, and steps on the pedal to turn off the firepit. He carries her back into the house, kicks the kitchen door closed. Using his memory of the place, he fumbles through the kitchen, through the living room, needing to keep kissing her, holding her. He grunts softly as he carries her up the stairs, and he has to mentally count doors to make sure he won't traumatize one of his kids.

She is the one who shoots out a hand to open their bedroom door, her body still wrapped around his. She knows he's dropping her to the bed, but she doesn't let go. He'll need to figure out a way to get her pants off with her legs hooked around his waist, because she is latched onto him for dear life.

He seems fine with that, as he settles on top of her, his hands skimming up and down her arms, deepening the kiss. "I love you," he grumbles into her mouth. He scoops her up and flips her over, and his eyes widen as she pulls herself away from him, sits back, and pulls her top off over her head.

"Fuck," he hisses, and it's unintentional, his unconscious reaction to her perfect breasts coming into view, the way her usually hard, muscular stomach is softened only because it's home to his child. _Their_ child. He curls his hands around her belly, then grips the elastic of her pants. He winks at her as she hikes herself up to help him get them off as fast as possible, because he knows she already regrets moving. He bucks upward for her, then, too, as she rolls his flannels down and when he kicks them off, he crooks a finger at her and grins wickedly.

She gives him a sly smile of her own, settles over him, and as she sinks onto him her eyes flutter shut and she moans his name so slowly, so low. She leans forward, her chest against his, finds his hands with hers, and their fingers link on their own.

He thrusts upward, kissing her as he moves, and he feels the way her body reacts to him. She's already clenching, her hormones and baby-induced sensitivity combine to make it so much easier to bring her to a powerful climax. He loves watching her eyes as he slips into her, slides out, the way her pupils seem to dilate and retract in time with his strokes. "Baby," he moans, their lips pressed together. "God, baby."

"I love you," she whispers, and her back curls as she tries to move faster, take him into her deeper.

He knows by the way her cries get higher, closer together, and the way she presses his hands down into the mattress that she's going to cum, and he peels his mouth away from hers and says, "Look at me." He nudges her with his nose. "Honey, please, look at me."

She opens her eyes as she rides him, stares down as her teeth gnash her lip and her hair falls over her head and against his face. "I love you," she tells him again, as if trying to make him forget there was a moment she ever doubted how real this was. Her head flies back then and she hears him bark at her, and it takes everything she has to look back down and open her eyes.

"I want to watch this," he whispers, and he slams up, hard, fast. He grips her hands tighter, clenches his jaw, presses his lips together, and he feels his muscles fighting against hers. He lets out a long rumbling groan when he feels her clench around him, and he struggles to keep his own eyes open and on hers.

She gives him what she wants, her jaw drops as she lets her head fall lower to his, and she keeps moving with him as she cums. "Oh, my God, yes, Elliot," she cries softly.

He twists their hands together as he lets go, shooting into her with a series of muffled curses.

She collapses onto him when her body gives out, she shivers and shudders as the tiny quakes of blessed aftershocks ripple through her.

He gives one last thrust, draining completely, and he pulls one of his hands out of hers to run it through her hair. It always amazes him how slick their bodies get, how sticky they become, because it's always such a full-blown full-body release, and it's only ever happened with her. "I love you," he says into her hair as he kisses her head. "God, I love you so much."

There's a comfortable quiet between them as they rise and fall together. Two sets of lungs breathing in time with each other, two hearts in synchronized beat. They're smiling, eyes closed, content. Sleep is just about to take them away, when his phone rings. He whimpers and whines and he moves as much as he can without moving her to grab the device off of the end table. "Stabler," he spits, trying not to sound aggravated. His eyes pop open and he sits up fast.

Rolling off of him, she pulls the sheets up and looks at him, concerned. "What is it?" She asks, because if it was work, hers would've been ringing, too.

"No, Mom, I will...I will be right there," he says into the phone. "Uh, well, she's in bed, but I have to tell her, I…" he exhales. "I know you are. Yeah, as soon as I can. We love you, too." He hangs up and immediately starts to pull on the cleanest clothes he can find without opening drawers.

"El, what is it?" she asks again. "Something's wrong with your mom?"

"Uh, no," he blinks, and he pulls on a tee shirt and leans over. "It's...yours." He winces at the look on her face and he presses her back down when she tries to get up. "Baby, you don't have to come with me, she's fine. She's just…" he exhales again.

"Where the hell is she?" she asks, and she tries to calm down. "Is she okay?"

He nods and kisses her again. "She's at a bar on Park Avenue. She's too drunk to walk home, she can't get a cab, and it's too late to catch a bus." He rests his hands on her shoulders as she moves to get out of the bed again. "I'll go get her, I'll take her home. I won't be long. Stay here, get some sleep." He kisses her again. "I love you."

"I love you," she says to him, and she falls back onto the bed with a grunt. She doesn't watch him leave, choosing to turn and look out the window. The night is quiet, even for their neighborhood, and the street is unusually empty.

Except for one silver car, hiding in the shadows of the trees lining the street.

The driver? He has his sights set on the Stabler house. He just has to wait for the right moment to make his move.

**A/N: Wedding? Baby? Maybe. **


	60. Chapter 60

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"You shouldn't have had to…" the look he's giving her is what silences her. She bites her lip and the urge to throw up hits her faster than it has yet. She is on her feet and out the door in seconds. As she runs, the walls around her blur like wild paint strokes and she manages by the grace of God to make it into the bathroom, into a stall, over a toilet, before she heaves and wretches.

She knows this is part of the deal, she understands that her body is adjusting to the tasks of growing a human, but she did not realize how incredibly unpredictable and vicious it would all be, and no one warned her that "morning sickness" lasts twenty-four hours. She feels him behind her before he even touches her, and she holds up a hand and shakes her head as she heaves over again.

Wincing, he grabs her shoulder-length waves and bunches them all together in one hand, the other runs along her shoulder and squeezes. "Baby," he whispers, and his eyes close. The most miraculous moment of their lives is something that causes so much stress and discomfort. A price both are willing and incredibly eager to pay. He watches her sit up and he hands her the small bottle of Scope he keeps in his pocket for this reason only. "Here, honey," he says tenderly, and for a moment, the barriers they need to keep up at work are torn down.

She swigs, swishes, spits, then closes the bottle tightly and hands it back to him with a nod. "I'm okay, I'm just…" she smiles. "Pregnant." She shrugs and then looks at him, takes a good long look at his eyes, the way his cheeks and jawbone are more chiseled than they were a year ago. She realizes it's because he's taking care of himself in ways he'd ignored before, when he'd put himself last on his list of priorities. She reaches one hand up and cups his face with it, tilts her head, and says, "You never told me what happened with my mother."

He closes his eyes and licks his lips. "She asked me not to," he whispers, and he kisses the underside of her wrist as he turns his head and moves her hand. He holds it, runs his thumb along the edges and over the lines in her palm, and then he says, "She met a friend for dinner, thought she could control herself, since...she's been pretty good lately...and uh, one glass of wine turned into five, which turned into Long Island Iced Teas...which turned into…straight shots of something she can't remember."

"So she called you to pick her up? That's it?" She bites her lip and tries to remember the last time her mother made the conscious choice to call for help, the last time she realized she was drunk and took responsibility for it. "She wasn't in any kind of trouble?" She slides her hands down the thick sleeves of his dark blue suit jacket, tugging on the gold buttons of his cuffs nervously. Maybe it's not something she wants to hear.

He shakes his head, kisses her knuckles, and then moves in to kiss her lips. "No, she just...knew she had no other safe way home. She would have called you, but she...God, she didn't want to let you down."

"She didn't." She rests her head against his and whispers, "I'm actually really proud of her. And I can't thank you enough for getting out of bed and going out to get her. You didn't have to do that, she's my…"

"My mother-in-law," he reminds her, and he brushes one of his large, thick knuckles across the thin skin under her left eye. "She's our family, just as much mine as yours, now...for the rest of our lives." He kisses her cheeks and then her lips. "You ready to go back to work?"

She rolls her eyes. "You mean am I ready to do all the paperwork you've been neglecting for the last eleven months?"

He chuckles and smooths his hands down over her flower-print peplum top and stretchy grey pants, thankful he had finally convinced her to let her buy her maternity clothes. "Talk to witnesses, take victim statements, it's not all my pile of paperwork." He winks at her, kisses her again, and leads her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and back to the squad room.

Once they're in the room, though, they turn to each other, instantly regretting the choice to come back. "What'd we miss?" he asks, finally facing the frazzled looking captain.

Cragen hands him three eight by ten black and white photos, points a finger at Olivia, and said, "I'm down a detective, you need to be out there on this with Fin and Munch."

Elliot looked down, his jaw dropped. "Cap, this isn't...what are you…" he takes a closer look at the pictures. "The courthouse," he hands it to Olivia. "Is this...Novak's apartment?" He holds it out to Olivia. "You'd know better than I would," he says, and he grins at her, remembering a time when she assumed there was something going on between him and the redheaded lawyer.

"Yeah," she takes the photo without returning his smile. "What exactly is going on here?" She drops the pictures in her hands back onto the one still held in Elliot's.

Fin looks at her with narrow eyes. "Cap got a package. These pictures, a letter, and a warning." He hands Olivia the folded paper in his hand, crosses his arms, and waits. "Does Casey…"

"She's fine," Cragen assures, nodding. "As soon as I opened the envelope, I called Donnelly, Novak is downstairs in protective custody. That's not exactly my top priority, here." He points at the letter in Olivia's hand. "That note...says that if we don't find the son of a bitch, he's going after someone else. Liv, I think he means you." He swivels his head. "Which is why you need to be on this. This asshole knows about you two, Porter attacked Kathy, had something to do with Barton, now Casey? These women only have one thing in common, Elliot, and that's…"

"Hey!" Elliot barks, snapping a bit sooner than he'd hoped, "The only one of them I had anything personal with was Kathy because she was my wife at one point, and it was a long fucking time ago, so don't tell me some prick is going after these girls because of me."

"Your theory made sense, after Barton," Cragen says softly, trying to calm him down. "You thought whoever this was attacked the women he thought could potentially come between you and Olivia. Now, it's no secret Casey's interested in you. Question is...is someone after her because she's a threat to Olivia, or is someone after Novak...and Olivia...because they're standing in the way of…"

"Me," he whispers. "You think someone's…" he licks his lips. "Wait a minute, you honestly think someone's out there attacking these women, because...what, he wants me? To kill me, or…"

"No," Olivia cuts in, her eyes are dark, there's a waver in her voice. "This was written by a woman. The slant, the loops, the pen pressure…" she blinks once. "Someone was either working with Porter or paid him and someone else...to get everyone out of her way, including me, to get to you." She hands him the letter, and as he reads it, she studies his face, tries to discern any sign of recognition or hint of realization. Maybe he'll recognize the handwriting, maybe something in what is said will give him a hint. When she sees nothing but genuine fear, she drops her hands to her stomach again. "I mean, Dean's the kind of guy who holds a grudge, especially since...well, we destroyed his life. He would work with anyone who..." she blinks a few times, her feet shift beneath her.

Elliot twists the paper. "You think he got someone to write this?" he quirks an eyebrow, his left hand drags down the side of his suit jacket.

"No," she whispers. She's staring at him, her eyes wide open, and she isn't sure if it's her hormones or the genuine fear taking over right now, but tears slowly roll out of her eyes without her even blinking them to life. "But...someone's still fucking playing with us. It's not me he wants anymore, it's...I think he's trying to…" her eyes flutter, and she loses her balance.

Elliot catches her as she crumples, his deep cry of her name unheard by her unconscious ears. "Baby," he lightly slaps her cheeks with one hand while he gratefully takes a wet paper towel from Fin. "Liv, baby, come on, up and at 'em," he coaxes, pressing the cool napkin to her forehead. She moans and whimpers, shifts in his hold, and he cradles her closer to him. "Liv, baby, open your eyes for me." He looks up when someone taps him on the shoulder, and he smiles at Munch as he takes the half-empty package of cookies from him. "Thanks, man," he says.

She wriggles a bit more, straining to lift her head, and she tries to swat his cookie-holding hand away from her mouth. "I am not...will you…" she grabs his wrist. "Stop, I'm fine." She sits up, but he's keeping her in his lap. She feels him nuzzling her, she can hear him mumbling a prayer and sniffling, and she closes her eyes and turns around. "I'm fine, I just...this baby is…" she presses a hand to his cheek. "I'm fine."

He nods and sniffles again, and he moves as though he's going to kiss her. Just before he does, he raises the cookie to her parted lips and shoves softly, making her eat it, and then kisses her forehead instead of her mouth. "What was that you were saying? You need me out there baiting the son of a bitch?" He eyes Cragen as if blaming him for Olivia's spike in blood pressure.

Cragen relents, then looks over at Fin and Munch. "You two, run that letter over to Docs, see if anythings traceable, then…"

"Take the sedan," Olivia speaks, her eyes still closed as she chews and clutches Elliot's arms. "Anyone waiting for us will be watching for that car." She blinks and swallows her cookie. "We gave Porter to the feds, who probably set him loose after a stern talking to, the bastard's gotten away with more than…" she wavers and grips Elliot tighter.

"Relax, breathe," he whispers to her, and he looks up at Fin, nods once, and watches him leave with Munch in tow. "If it's not Porter, it's someone who's trying to finish what he started. It's all fucking leading back to that fucking case in Goddamned Syracuse."

"I think you need to tell me why," Cragen states coolly, and he helps Elliot and Olivia off the ground, brushes both of them off, and hands Olivia the bottle of water that had been waiting in his shaking hand. "Now."

"Calderone had dirt on a lot of people," Olivia says, swallowing a sip from the bottle. She takes a breath. "Porter wanted him alive, the Bureau was planning on milking him for every drop of it, make him roll over on a lot of people. When we…" she inhales and takes another sip of water, then rolls her eyes as she takes the Oreo Elliot is thrusting at her. She bites it and says, "When we shot him, we sunk his battleship."

Elliot takes the bottle of water from her, takes a sip, then looks at Cragen. "He was right, we did cost him a promotion. We also cost the feds a lot of collateral, intel, and, uh, we all know Porter wanted me out of the way for…" he looks at Olivia, his eyes droop in wondering what might have been. "Other reasons." He brushes her hair back, and for the second time in less than an hour, he throws the rules out of the window and presses his lips to her temple. "You sure you're okay?"

She nods and pushes him back slightly, and as she finishes her cookie, she heads back to her desk. "Work," she spits. "I can call McAllister, tell him…"

"You don't have to call me." McAllister smiles politely as he shakes Elliot's hand and then walks over to do the same to Olivia. His dark hair falls into his eyes as he lowers his head in a nod, he blinks his green eyes at her once. He looks her up and down and his smile widens as he tugs on the sleeves of his expensive black suit. "It looks good on you," he says. "Motherhood, I mean." He sees her return his smile and then he shifts back to Elliot. "Since you were about to call me, I think you know why I'm here."

"Just don't…" Elliot crosses his arms and rolls the tension out of his neck. "You turned Porter loose? After the charges we…"

"Porter's in federal lockup," McAllister said, and he leans into Elliot and lowers his voice. "Psych ward," he says with a wag of his eyebrows. "I'm here because I got a call, six hours ago, you had names? A list of Calderone's goons?"

Olivia screws up her face at him. "Sam, no one called you," she says, and she shakes her head. "Aside from the ones we arrested in the raid, we didn't even know he had…"

"Look, we don't play nice with the feds," Cragen says with a glare. "If we had names of anyone associated with Calderone's operation out of Manhattan, we would have gotten them ourselves." He looks at Elliot. "Someone is fucking with this unit! Again!"

"Still," Elliot says, and he bites his lip. He turns to McAllister. "You said he was in the psych ward? Where?" He reaches for the phone on his desk, not willing to risk a call from his cell phone.

"Mount Hope," McAllister says, and he turns to look at Cragen, and then at Olivia. "Who the hell is he calling?"

Olivia shrugs and then goes silent as the room waits for Elliot to speak. He puts on a calm front as he says, "Doc, what's up? Yeah, listen, I got a case, came across my desk, the vic is an intern in the lab, she's still unconscious at Mary Help." He shrugs at Olivia, who's giving him an odd look as he lies through his teeth. "See, the thing is, this is unfortunately not the first time she's been attacked. Her father said something about her being in a support group, uh, mentioned you by name. Now, I thought you were just the shrink for the sus...oh, you do? Hey, do you do any of that counseling at Mount Hope?" He snaps his fingers and scrawls his fingers through the air, asking for a pen. He takes the one Olivia offers him and he smirks. "Oh, really? Well, no, I don't need to know who it...oh, wow, that's...no, I promise it's pure coincidence. Never, you know that. Thanks, Doc," he scrapes his teeth over his lip and hangs up.

"What the hell was that?" McAllister asks, befuddled.

Cragen chuckles and says, "That's brilliant fucking detective work." He slaps Elliot on the shoulder. "What'd you get?"

"George Huang," Elliot says, and he holds up the notepad he'd been writing on. "I figured he'd know the shrink in the psych ward at a federal penn, seeing as he's a federal psychologist." He shrugs. "Turns out, it's him three days a week. He also told me he does counseling for departmental staff and federal employees, he's on-call twenty-four seven and works with the groups at Mount Hope Correctional. I wanted to just put feelers out, maybe get a warrant for the roster, but I didn't even have to ask, he said that my name came up a lot in pretty intense sessions he's been having with one of his patients. He told me, ya know, what is said is confidential and he can't give me details, but he did tell me who it was because…" he scratches a spot behind his ear and chuckles as he looks at Olivia. "He threatened to kill me if I ever did anything to hurt you."

"He's a good guy," she says, grinning, and her thumb spins her wedding ring around her finger twice before she speaks again. "Who's the patient? Porter?"

Eliot shakes his head, then reaches across the desk and hands her the notepad. "Barton."

**A/N: Wedding? Baby? Maybe. **


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N:** **At times it just feels like the world is trying hard to knock us down. But there's a reason that we're still here when no one else is around ****(Soldier - James TW) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

"Handwriting's a match," Carlton Myers, the documents specialist nods as he hands the threatening letter and two copied autopsy reports back to Olivia.

After she'd fully recovered from her fainting spell, she and Elliot took their theory down to the documents lab to give them something to compare the note to, and they're both relieved and shocked that they're right.

Myers taps the paper in Olivia's hand and shoots a look toward Elliot. "Dr. Barton definitely wrote that note," he points to the page.

Elliot squints, his head moves back and forth and his lip curls under his teeth. "That doesn't...make any…"

"Makes perfect sense," Olivia says, she smiles and thanks Myers, then turns to head out of the docs lab. "Think about it. She's been trying for God knows how long to get in your pants," she says as they move down the hall. "She flirts with you every chance she gets, sees the ring on your finger, knows you're married, it doesn't stop her…" she drags her nails through her hair as she inhales, now is not the time to be sick to her stomach, baby or not. She pushes the door to the stairwell open and says, "She starts hitting on you relentlessly, touching you every time she can, it verges on harassment, but you…" she looks at him and her eyes narrow. "You don't give her the time of day, you tell her you're not interested, it doesn't phase her."

He turns to her, his lungs halt as he sees the look in her eyes. "Liv, what are you…"

The door closes behind her and she cringes as her stomach flips, but she keeps talking. "She gets more brazen, gropes you at crime scenes, tries to throw you down on her slab," she spits out, and there's a grin on her face that's anything but happy. "She thinks eventually, she'll get what she wants. She thinks, you know, all men cheat on their wives, don't they?" There's a dark flicker in her eyes and when she licks her lips it's only to keep her nausea at bay.

"Okay, what the hell is your…" he shuts up when she talks over him, and he folds his arms and leans against the wall of the stairwell.

"She thinks there's a chance, but you're so fucking moral, it pisses her off," she drags her hands over her stomach and then slips the papers under her arm. She knows she needs to find a way to get you alone, and that means without me, because, fuck, I always cock-blocked her, didn't I?"

"Liv, calm down," he whispers, and he reaches for her arm, but she pulls away. "What are you...okay," he sighs, knowing. "Go on." He watches her and he isn't sure if he's proud, worried, or both.

She crosses her arms and rocks on her heels. "She wants you, she wants me out of the way, so she finds someone else who wants the same fucking thing." She lowers her voice, emotion not necessity. "She knows Porter attacked Kathy because she was the on-call at the hospital that night, she knows he was let off by the feds. She thinks, hey, they have a common goal, so she calls him, gets him to help her stage her attack. She's an ME, she knows there needs to be proof, so she sleeps with him, gets him to rough her up a bit. When it's over, she calls the cops, reports it as a rape. She tells Porter to leave, makes him call the hospital and get us on the case," she shakes her head. "Maybe she wants you to be there for her in her time of need, comfort her the way you do the victims, she wants you holding her hand alone in the room with her when she's vulnerable, but I'm the one that goes in to take her statement."

He bites his lip. The more she talks, the more sense it all makes, but he's getting more and more upset with every word she says. "Why didn't she try something at the hospital, then?"

Olivia smiles. "Because after she tells me she's not traumatized at all, which is odd for someone who's just been raped, she finds out your wife...is me," she smirks. "She knows I'd kill her, and then, here's the kicker," she holds up both hands, pointing fingers in the air. "She finds out I'm pregnant, she thinks that's her ticket in because I'm suddenly less attractive, I'm gonna get fat and cranky, and damn it, she's determined to be there when you need a good fuck," she laughs bitterly, rolls her eyes and tosses her head back. "She's also probably pissed off because you only came into the room after you talked to Porter, when you thought I was the one in trouble, so she flips, ya know? Seeing you holding me, your hands on this…" she taps her belly. "To her, it's the last straw.."

"You...you really think she's working with Porter?" He shakes his head, finally takes hold of her arms. "You know it doesn't matter if she's working with God and the Pope, no one is ever gonna…" he smiles when she looks up at him. "Nothing is gonna come between us, you know that don't you." He smooths her hair back and then he adds, "You think she found out Porter was in one of those support groups at Mount Hope? Got her sessions with Huang moved there to be able to see him?"

She nods and says, "You heard Huang, you're her favorite topic of conversation, so yes, I think she got in with Porter's group to remind him they have a common goal. To keep their plans rolling, he gives her the equipment and the intel, she gets Porter to tell her how to handle things. She vows to take down everyone standing between you and her, and because Porter's probably out for blood, she's willing to kill me to pay him back for his part in this whole fucked up...game." She drops her head, it lands on his shoulder. "Casey's safe, Barton thinks no one suspects her…" she blinks once. "So we give her what she wants."

"I'm sorry, what? We do what?" his heart drops and he pulls her halfway down the stairs as he says, "I am not handing you over to some psycho! Even if...even if you weren't pregnant, I wouldn't…"

"Not me," she whispers, and she is staring into his eyes, begging him to read her the way he always does so she doesn't have to say it. She's queasy enough as it is, she doesn't need to purposely make herself more upset.

He understands, and he shakes his head at her. "What are you saying? You want me to...you're asking me to…"

"Call her," she says, and the words taste bitter in her mouth. "Tell her you're thinking about her, ask how she's doing, if she's ready to come back to work." She pulls on her top again, tugging it down over her small bump roughly. Suddenly flowers and peplum are her least favorite things. "Then...hit her with it," she inhales sharply, digging up every ounce of professionalism she has, cutting off the air supply to the wife and mother she's become and confining herself to full cop mode. She shoves her hands into her pants pockets and clears her throat, snapping into the version of _Detective Benson_ that died a year ago. "Tell her you need a night out, away from your nagging, uncomfortable wife and crazy kids. Ask her to meet you somewhere, let her think she's finally getting you where she wants you."

"Then what?" he leads her down another flight of stairs, pushes the door to their unit open, and asks, "What do I say? Thanks for dinner, by the way, have you been plotting to kill my wife, lately?"

"Partner," she hisses, and she pushes through the door he's only got half-opened. "Christ," she drags one hand through her hair as they walk down the hall and she says, "You know how to do this, Elliot, you've been the best cop on the beat for years. Play into her fantasy, earn her trust, ask her how far she was planning to go to get you if you didn't take her up on her offer!" She turns on her heels and heads into the squadroom, her eyes falling on Cragen. "We got her," she hands him the three pieces of paper she's been holding under her arm. "And we have a plan."

"No," Elliot barks, "Olivia has a plan, I have a problem with it!" He starts to open his mouth, walking toward her the way he would when they fought, when there were a million miles of Kathy between them.

She stops him, and her words are cool, logical. "It's a good idea," she says to him. "She won't hurt you, you'd be wired, couple of guys waiting in the wings. She's desperate for your attention, she'd do anything you ask." She bites her lip. "Trust me."

Cragen looks down at the analysis Myers printed out, then he turns his chin up to Elliot. "Lemme guess," he says. "She wants you to take Barton somewhere nice," he smirks and says. "And this was your idea?" He looks at Olivia and he, too, sees the determined, almost vengeful detective he hired four years ago.

"Her idea," Elliot snaps, "Doesn't seem concerned that she's putting me in that position." He turns and paces, one hand on his hip the other on the side of his neck. "Just fucking asks me to take another woman...who's made it pretty damn clear what she wants...fucking hell."

Cragen moves fast, trying to calm Elliot down, and he says, "She's right," and he narrows his eyes. "You know she's right. She's not trying to give you a reason to leave her, and she's not running from you, you know she loves you and that baby more than anything. She's doing her job the only way she knows how." He turns to look over his shoulder and whispers, "Look at her. She's terrified. She knows this is the only way to get to Barton, and she knows…" he swivels his head back to Elliot. "She knows you'd do whatever you have to do, it's not just one life at risk here, Stabler. Shit, you know damn well she'd be out there with guns blazing, demanding to take the redhead down herself, if she wasn't…" he smiles. "If she wasn't having a baby. Your baby, Elliot."

Elliot looks over at Olivia. He sees it, hidden under the protective shell she's put around herself, the fear, the guilt, the need to stop this before anyone else gets hurt. He steps past Cragen and walks over to her, and he lets his hand swipe down her arm. "I'm sorry, you...you're right, this is…"

"A year ago, you would have jumped on this," she tells him, her voice low. "A year ago, you would have given me a high-five and whipped out your cell phone to set it up before either of us bothered telling Cragen what we were doing." She wipes her nose, refusing to give him any hint that she's upset. "I didn't realize that facing our feelings would have more of an impact on the way we work than…"

"That's not it," he interrupts, and he nudges her to get him to look at her. "I panicked, and I'm sorry. My knee-jerk reaction to anything...my first response to you is always gonna be as your husband, and a year ago pretending to go on a date with a crazy bitch wouldn't have bothered me but now it…"

"You'd feel guilty?" she questions, blinking. Her mood shifts and she stiffens. "You think I'd read too much into it, and what, leave?" She sees the truth in his eyes. "I finally convinced myself you weren't going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let myself confuse flirting with a perp during a sting op for anything else, especially when it's fucking Barton." She grins as he smiles at her. "You with me, Stabler?"

He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, holds out his hand for a high five, and dials the medical examiner's number as her fingers slap against his. "Hi, um, Doctor...oh, uh, okay, Natalie," he raises an eyebrow at Olivia, who smirks smugly at him. "Yeah, it is, how did you...oh, I didn't realize I had that kind of a voice. I'm just calling to see how you are, follow up on your…" his eyes widen. "Wow, um, ya know...I would like to meet you for dinner, tonight, actually." He eyes Olivia, and then Cragen, and he gives a thumb's up. "I'll meet you at Chardonnay's at six. Yeah, me, too."

Olivia stares at him as he hangs up, and she takes a deep breath. "Told you she'd jump at the chance," she says, it comes with a slight laugh.

He nods, then looks at Cragen. "Wire me up, get me a couple of guys to play backup," he darts his eyes back to Olivia. "Let's end this."

Cragen and a few other detectives spring into action, but Olivia and Elliot don't move at all. They can't. They're frozen to the spot, locked on each other, knowing that taking this woman into custody officially and finally brings a permanent end to the case that changed their lives. There'll be no more surprises, no more hidden enemies, no more wrong turns, no one else using them as pawns.

They can't fucking wait.

**A/N: Wedding? Baby? We'll get there. Maybe. **


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N:** **I don't believe in anything but myself, But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door. ****Now I start to believe in something else ****(Soldier - Ingrid Michaelson) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

The restaurant is more crowded than he'd hoped. More of a chance to make a spectacle, more of an audience when this goes down. He lets his eyes wander, the brick walls and dim lights bring an intimacy that is forever lost on him now. He's taking in the ambiance, and a part of him is incredibly upset that he'll never be able to bring Olivia here again. The romance would always be overshadowed by this moment, this night, this job. He looks across the table and tries to smile as flirtatiously as he can at the redhead on the other side. He sips his water, licks his lips, and hopes the disgust and guilt aren't easily seen under the guise he's playing with. "So, uh, Natalie," he clears his throat. "How are you…"

"I'm perfectly fine," Barton interrupts as she leans over the table, allowing for a clear view down the neck of her low-cut red dress. She runs a finger around the rim of her glass and the look she gives him means what she wants isn't on the menu. "I know why you asked me here, tonight, Elliot. You don't have to pretend this is a professional check-in." She darts her eyes around the room, smirks, and says, "No one's here that you know, no fear of anyone running to tell your wife." She reaches for his tie, grabs and pulls, and a low laugh escapes her. "We could do whatever you want, tonight. Things she won't do for you, things she won't give you…" she blinks and leans closer to him. "I will."

From a small room in the back of the restaurant next to the kitchen, Olivia hears his nervous laughter through his wire, and she cringes and clutches her stomach. "Next time I have a brilliant idea like this," she eyes Fin beside her, "Slap me." She scoffs and shakes her head. "I really think I'm gonna be sick." She winces and grips the back of the tech's chair.

"He's just playin' the part," Fin rubs her back gently. "Nothin' to worry about, here. He's just doin' his job."

"That's the excuse we used in Syracuse," she mumbles and rolls her eyes as she pulls the hem of her jacket over her floral top. She knows Fin is right, and that Elliot has no interest in doing anything with Barton besides arresting her. "Okay," she nods and turns back to the audio tech when she hears Barton detailing exactly what she wants from Elliot. "You can pick up everything, right? Even if she's whispering? We need words, not just moans and giggles. The goal here is taping a confession, not producing ASMR porn."

The man laughs and says, "Yes, Detective, we can hear everything." He moves one of his earphone caps to the side and looks up at her. "He just said he wants me to tell you he loves you, he whispered, under his breath. She didn't hear him, but we got it on tape." He sees her relieved smile and goes back to analyzing the audio.

Back at the table, Elliot puts his empty water glass down, tilts his head, and says, "There's something about you…" he pauses. "Your tenacity, I mean, I turned you down a million times." He wipes his sweaty palms over the knees of his black pants, he hates every part of this except what he hopes will be the end result. "You're very persistent"

"And now here we are," Barton lilts, flipping her hair and giggling at him, and then she winks.

"Here we are," he repeats, and he shifts in his seat and folds his hands over the white tablecloth. "You just wouldn't take no for an answer."

Barton shrugs coyly, licks her lips, and tells him, "I told you when we first met, Elliot. I always get what I want, and I want you." She lets her eyes narrow and she slips one of her hands over his. "What's that you cops say? Get your man by any means necessary?" she giggles again. "My motto, too, it seems."

He watches the woman flip her red curls and her green eyes glimmer at him, and he wonders how he let himself get roped into this. He clears his throat again, settles himself to the task of ending this once and for all, and he moves closer to her, squeezes his hand around hers, and says, "That does wonders for my ego. You could have anyone you want, and you, uh, very clearly, want me. Makes a guy feel pretty damn good."

She laughs, nods, and pulls her hand away from his. She starts to run her fingertips along the collar of his shirt. "So what is it, then? What do you want, Elliot? Something that ice princess you married won't, um, provide for you?"

"Ha," he laughs in angry surprise, but he has a job to do, so he hides his building fury well. He rolls his neck, it cracks and pops, and he says, "There's a list." He watches her eyes light up eagerly, and he knows it's the right time to bring it home before she tries to touch him any more than she has. "But, uh, before we get into that...I need to know...just because it's...intriguing." He brings his hand up and lightly brushes a few copper curls out of her eyes. "How far did you really go to get to me? Hm?" He raises one brow. "I've been at this a long time, and I have never seen a victim, so soon after their attack, willingly jump into something that's going to be…" he dips his chin and smirks. "Incredibly sexual."

Barton's cheeks redden, she feels the heat rise, and she leans into him, slides her hand from his neck, down his chest, to his belt. She tugs and says, "Incredibly, huh?" she scrapes her teeth along her lips and dips her hand between his legs. She chuckles when he jumps and she says, "Oh, relax." Her eyes darken and she tilts her head. "You have nothing to worry about. Let's just say...I am not as traumatized as most of your victims."

He shifts again, her fingers grazing his cock beneath his pants. "Tell me," he says, his eyes wide, and he wraps his hand around her wrist. "If I'm...starting some sort of affair, here, I need to know how important this is to you, be honest with me," he looks into her eyes, lets his lips curl slightly.

"I knew I needed to get you alone," she tells him, still teasing him despite his grip. "I figured staging an attack would be the best way, had a friend help me do it," she leans in and her lips graze the throbbing vein in his neck. "You were supposed to be in that room with me, Elliot, not your precious partner." She sinks her teeth into his skin, hears him moan, and she laughs. "Then she told me...the wife I've been trying to lure you away from was her, and she was having your baby. Hearing that, well, it made my next move so obvious."

"What was your next move?" He backs up, backs away, and turns to face her, both in an attempt to convince her he's interested and to keep her from touching him. She's making his skin crawl. "What else did you do? I wasn't aware fucking me was worth so much trouble." He licks his lips again, and he hopes the people waiting, listening, watching, don't think he's serious. "Tell me," he winks at her, "Natalie."

Barton looks around, leans closer, and says, "No trouble at all, really. I created a diversion. I knew that your, um, wife," she rolls her eyes as she says it, "Would do anything in her power to protect a friend, so I may have sent some photos to your captain, suggesting that someone had your attorney in their sights. Of course, it helps that Novak wants you almost as much as I do, but she never had the guts to do anything about it," she laughs, and she says, "I sent letters, emails, insinuating there was something between you and Novak, and I figured your captain would bench you on this one. Conflict of interest, yeah? Knowing that Olivia's pregnant, well, I knew that with her working a case without you...coming home too tired and cranky to give you what you need...left the goal unattended and wide open for me to, uh, give it my best slapshot."

"So no one's really targeting Novak?" he asks in a voice he hopes sounds more like sex than disdain.

"Nope," Barton shakes her head and bats her eyes. "But someone is watching every move that wife of yours is making. Without you there, she's vulnerable, unprotected. The perfect target. My guy has eyes on that beat-up red car you two tool around in," she tells him. "Just say the word, Elliot, and she's gone. No more ball and chain tying you down, no baby making your life miserable...free to fuck all the girls you want," she bites her lip. "Starting with me. Right here, right now."

She's stopped from grabbing his dick again by a loud crash coming from the restaurant's kitchen, and she and Elliot whip their heads around at the noise.

"Elliot, we got her, now I swear to God," Olivia hisses into her walkie talkie as she kicks one of the fallen pots at her feet, evidence of her mild outburst. "If you don't cuff the bitch, I'm gonna come out there and kill her, myself. I'll get off, I will tell the judge it was hormone spikes. No one will fight me on it."

Elliot can't help but snicker, hearing his wife's words, and he clears his throat and turns back to Natalie, who's gone back to staring at him. He's covering his sneaky laugh by saying, "Wow, I'm flattered. No one has ever gone through so much just to get me in bed." He leans closer to her. "I hope everything you did...is worth this," he leans closer and he whispers, "Natalie Barton," he loops one hand around her thin wrist as the other reaches into his pocket. "You're under arrest," he says, and she only has time to gasp once before the clink of his handcuffs breaks the tension.

Barton's eyes widen and she pulls at her hand, tries to stand, but she gulps and closes her eyes when something cold and hard touches the back of her head.

Olivia, with a hateful grin on her face, has her gun pressed to the back of Barton's head. Her grip is fierce, her stance is powerful, every pair of eyes on the restaurant is on her. "You have the right to remain silent," she spits. "Anything you say…"

"I know," Barton barely breathes, and she shakes as she feels Elliot twist her around to cuff her other wrist. She shakes her head and her frown falls. "What the fuck is it about you, Benson?" she asks darkly. "Dean drove himself mad for you, this one.." she jerks her head backward toward Elliot, "Turned down hot nights, missed out on unbridled sex with four different women...gave up chances to fulfill every fantasy he…"

"Hey, Barton?" Elliot yanks on her cuffs and finally lets the hate seep into his words. "Look at her," he says, turning her head to face Olivia. "That, right there, is every fantasy I have. You asked...what she wouldn't do, what she doesn't give me? She does it all and gives me everything I could ever fucking want or need, and you...you're spending the next thirty years in a jail cell, so I'd get used to missing out on sex if I were you." He shoves Barton over to Fin.

Fin nods as he walks her out of the restaurant, reading her the rest of her rights, not giving anyone any loopholes.

Olivia heaves a heavy sigh as she holsters her gun and then looks at Elliot with a raised eyebrow. "Four?"

He smirks and shakes his head, reaches out for her, and pulls her into him for a kiss that rivals all but their very first. Every emotion he feels is tangled up in their lips and tongues now, passing from him to her. His right hand presses into her back, his left moves down to cup her stomach, and he whispers, "I love you," and dives into her again.

She knows people are staring, she hears a few smatterings of applause, a few whistles, and she pushes him away slightly. Her head drops to his and she takes a breath, inhaling him but getting a whiff of Barton's perfume. She chokes slightly, heaves as though she's going to be sick, and backs away from him. "I love you, too," she says, "But burn that suit and take a fucking shower before you come near me again."

He rolls his eyes, loops an arm around her, and walks with her toward the front door. "She, uh, she said she had someone watching you. Watching the sedan."

"Yeah," she nods. "Munch dropped Fin off at the courthouse and then drove the car around the city for a while, taking the guy for a nice little joyride." She looks at him and says, "They finally pulled him over on Forty-Second Street, Munch brought him in an hour ago."

He exhales, relief flooding him, and he moves in to kiss her again, but he furrows his brow when he stops her. "Baby, what…"

"You smell like her," she says, a sneer on her face. She rubs her stomach again and closes her eyes. "I know it was all just an act, you were doing your job, but having to listen to her…"

Her words are cut off by his lips. "My shirt may smell like her," he whispers, "But every inch of my body smells like you." He nudges her nose with his, earning a smile, and he kisses her again. And then he stops, his body stiffens and he straightens up. "Well, uh, do me a favor, and um, just delete the last five...thanks, man," he babbles. He pulls on his tie and says, "Apparently, Davis was still recording."

She laughs, shakes her head, and walks with him out into the city night, toward the waiting squad cars and black trucks. "It's over," she says, leaning over the hood of a dark SUV. "For real this time. It's finally over."

He loops his hands around her hips and discreetly kisses the back of her head. "Baby," he whispers. And his hands smooth over her bump as he says, "It's only the beginning."

**A/N: An epilogue of sorts...next?**


	63. Chapter 63

**A/N:** **And so it goes, this soldier knows, the battle with the heart isn't easily won. ****But I won. ****(Soldier - Ingrid Michaelson) **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler **

_**Nine Months Later…**_

"She's asleep," he whispers, slipping into the bed beside his wife. He leans over her as he pulls the blue and brown paisley quilt up, brushes her dark hair back and kisses her forehead, and closes his eyes. "You ready to go back to work?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "Of course not," and she lightly scratches his arms as they wrap around her. For a moment she stares at the light blue wall, unblinking, contemplating. She sighs and answers, "But I have to, eventually, right? Might as well be tomorrow." She closes her eyes and leans back into him. "I'm gonna miss her," she whispers, and her eyes dart to the carved wood crib in the corner. She smiles, watching the moon and stars on the mobile above it spin, and she wonders how her whole world could be wrapped up in a ten-pound bundle of baby girl.

"She'll be right downstairs in the childcare center," he kisses the back of her head. "Nothing to worry about, baby. I promised you, we won't miss a single second of our children's lives." He takes a deep breath and smiles, he loves the way she smells. He always has, but her scent became an obsession over a year ago, in Syracuse. He inhales again, his lungs fill with a blend of Ivory soap and coconut shampoo. With a soft moan, he grins and says, "You know, uh, Riley is definitely not gonna be the last Stabler baby," he chuckles and whispers, "Not by a long shot."

As she chuckles, she shimmies in his arms, purposely teasing his already hard cock with her ass. "It took three months in the gym to get this body back, ya know. Besides, I would like to wait until she's out of diapers, if we can help it." She winks to let him know she's only half-kidding. She wants a thousand babies with him and he knows it.

He laughs, but as his eyes wander around their bedroom, he spots the pictures on the walls, on the dressers, on the shelves. Moments of the last four and a half years, frozen in time, speaking louder than words ever could. One framed photo, a black and white still of the exact moment Riley was first placed in her arms, takes him by surprise. The look on her face, the tears in her eyes, and the matching expression of ecstasy on his face as he leans over his wife and child, it all stuns him. "Are you happy?" he whispers, looking away from the wall and back at her. He grinds into her, pressing his hardness against her. His hands swoop low and he palms over her flattened, tightened stomach.

"Beyond happy," she tells him. "You...you've given me everything I've ever wanted," she whispers, "Even when I fought you on it, you wouldn't let me walk away from this. God, I'm so thankful that you are a stubborn son of a bitch."

He laughs and remembers how hard he'd had to work to convince her he'd been serious about her, about this. He sighs as he recalls the way she had looked in her simple white gown when she'd promised to love, protect, defend, honor him for the rest of their lives - a promise made ten times over before the wedding and at least once a day since. He grins as his lips slip down to hers, and he slants his mouth over hers. He remembers her strength, power, determination as she'd battled to bring their child into the world; the two-month-old princess is asleep in a crib across the room and she'd been born with a stubborn streak just like her parents.

She moans as he kisses her, her body turns and she wraps her arms around him.

He pulls her tighter to him, whispering something to her that she almost can't hear, but he knows she does. He says it again, a little bit louder, as his fingers skin the straps of her tank top.

"You told me, what?" she whispers, and her eyes flutter closed as his knuckles graze her nipples. Ever since the doctor had cleared her and told her she was free to return to her normal, active lifestyle, including sex, he's been insatiable. She doesn't mind at all. "What, baby?" she whispers, and she holds her breath as he drags his thick, rough hands down her sides and smoothes them up under her top. She moves only when he tugs to get it off of her completely.

"I said," he whispers as he throws her shirt to the floor, "I told you I was the guy. I'm the guy, baby. The guy that was meant to make all your dreams come true." He winks at her and drops his head, wrapping his lips around one of her hardened nipples. He doesn't suck, he knows how sensitive and possibly sore she is, but he flicks his tongue over it as he stares into her eyes. He moves then, licking intricate patterns in her skin, dipping his tongue into her belly button. He chuckles as he pulls her flannel pants over her hips and drops soft kisses down her thighs, her legs, all the way back up. He throws her pants off to the side; where they land isn't a concern. He lowers himself with an eager lick of his lips, and then he slips his tongue through her folds.

Her head falls back into the pillow, her eyes shut, her fingers scratch into his scalp. She feels the way he slowly slides his tongue up her incredibly sensitive slit, the first time he's done this since the baby was born, and she's only just realizing how much she's missed it. "Oh, God," she whispers, her nails digging deeper into the skin at the back of his head.

He moans and growls, savoring her taste, relishing in the intimacy of this moment. He works his way out of his sweatpants as he licks, and he's brought back to the night in Syracuse. The first time he'd done this to her had been the first time he'd done this to _anyone_ and he'd promised himself then and there that there'd be no one else. No one else would ever know her taste, he'd forever have only her flavor on his tongue. He moans again, pushes his tongue deeper into her, curling and rolling it. He grips the curves of her hips and growls as he devours her, and when he knows she's close, he backs away only enough to flick the tip of his tongue over her clit. When he feels her bucking her hips up against his working mouth, he slips back up her body. When he rises to his knees, he stares down at her.

Breathless, she looks into his eyes.

He smiles as he bends, nuzzles her nose with his as he shifts his hips and runs the tip of his dick through her folds, teasing her. "You want me?" he asks, but he knows she does. She always has and always will. "You love me?" he breathes, thrusting just enough to poke his tip into her. Another question he already has the answer to; the answer is sound asleep in the crib.

"God, yes," she says, and her hands claw their way down his back. "Just you," she moans. "Only you," her body quakes as he pushes deeper, further. "For the rest of my life." She opens her eyes and he's staring back at her with more love and desire in them than she's ever seen before, and her heart pounds against her chest.

"I want you," he whispers, and he tilts his head, his lips are still laced with the remnants of her as he brushes them over hers. "I love you," he tells her, and with one hard thrust of his hips, he's all the way in and his lips are on hers.

The world falls away like a house of cards in the wind, until all that's left is here, and now. They're lost to each other, consumed with each other. The need and desire between them are just as intense now as it always has been, but there's a depth to it that grows by the minute, fills the microscopic spaces between them. It takes their breath away and makes their matching heartbeats pound harder, faster.

They forget about the hell that the last year had brought in with it, the trials they'd had to face, hurdles they'd had to jump. They forget about Calderone, and Briscoe, DiMartino and Hillard. They forget about Porter and Barton and how they'd almost lost Cragen because of them. They forget about the pile of shit they'll be stepping in when they get to work in the morning, the mountain of paperwork waiting for them, the unforgiving caseload they'll be hit with, how they'll be expected to pretend their lives aren't irrevocably intertwined for eighteen hours. They forget it all, because all that exists is here, now, them, this heat, this love.

With a soft cry of his name, she brings her legs up and wraps them around his back, her fingertips press into his ass, she begs him for more without words. He needs him deeper, she needs him to move harder, stronger, faster, and she moans loudly when he obliges. "Elliot," she breathes, meeting him thrust for every incredible thrust. "Oh, my God," she cries softly.

He kisses her again, his tongue invades and explores and his hands hold around her back possessively and protectively. He thrusts even harder as his body curves, and against her lips he mumbles the same promises he'd made on their first morning officially together. "I don't want anyone else, I don't want anyone else to want me, ever, just you, only you," he breathes. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She moans, nuzzles into him, and she whispers something into his ear that makes him growl, spurs him into a faster and harder almost punishing pace. "Yes, Elliot, oh, God, yes," she whimpers.

"Fuck," he grits out, and he feels her tighten, feel the way her body clamps around his, and he smirks against her lips. "I love you," he whispers, and he slams one more time before she locks him inside of her. He moans and rolls his eyes at the way she cries his name, it's enough to drive him over the edge, and he cums with a growl and a grunt of her name.

She kisses him and grazes the skin of his shoulder blades with her fingertips, and she laughs when he rolls them over onto the other side of the bed. She sighs at the way he stays inside of her, finds the best way to wind himself around her, and she whispers, "I love you."

There's silence now; his fingers lace and curl in her hair, hers dance along his chest. They're turned into each other, pressed so tightly together that it's hard to tell where he ends and she begins, soft kisses and unspoken promises pass between them. Their chests rise and fall together, into each other, and a new feeling of peace overtakes them.

It comes in waves.

The lust ebbs as the comfort flows. The tides change and the two switch places. Love is the constant, the foam rising to the surface as it crests and crashes against pure, blissful reality.

And they give themselves over to sleep, breathing deeply as they fit perfectly against each other, knowing that above all, when they're together, no one else stands a chance. They'll fight with everything they have for and with each other, for their family, for this. And no matter what, they'll come out unscathed, still standing strong and unbreakable. Together, they will never fall down...like toy soldiers.

**A/N: It's been a long ride. Thank you to those of you who've taken it with me. **


End file.
